


Reignighted

by grayergray



Category: Aquaman - Fandom, Justice League, Wonder Woman (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Flashpoint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 50,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayergray/pseuds/grayergray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FINISHED/COMPLETE</p><p>This started as my 2012 NanoWrimo project, inspired by an RP a friend and I had been toying with but never really got around to finishing.</p><p>It's a "What If...?" based on the idea of "What if Diana and Orin were forced to get over their differences resulting from the Amo-Atlantian War of the Flashpoint arch?" Diana reaches out to Arthur for assistance when Themyscira is threatened, but ends up having to save him as a larger, more insidious plot unfolds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Wake up, my Queen,” his voice is soft, warm and loving, as it ever was. “The children wish to show you something...” His hand brushed against her cheek as her blue eyes fluttered open. His face was a vision, like one of the Gods; handsome and glowing as Apollo, with a smile like Cupid’s dart that went straight to the dark haired beauty’s heart. 

She was Diana of Themyscria; Queen of the Amazons. Her husband, the love of her world, was a king in his own right, of his own realm. Their marriage united the two communities, the two worlds, and brought them out in to the greater world. Now, six years on, they were happily together, he had left his mistress behind much to Diana’s joy and life was moving on.  
He took her hands and helped her to her feet. He covered her eyes, playfully, with one hand, while leaving the other on her lower back to gently guide and caress her. She couldn’t help but let a giggle escape her lips; when he acted like this, she was reminded of their courtship. 

They stepped down from the marital bedroom; her love led her out to the edge of the classical Greek building. “Only a few more steps, Diana,” he said, his voice lyrical in her ears. 

“Here we are,” he said, his voice brimming with a smile as his hands dropped away from her eyes. 

What Diana saw, was enough to take her breath away - in yellow, red and blue flowers, the children had formed their family crest, an amalgam of the two insignias. It brought tears to her eyes. She brought both hands to her face, covering her smile, eyes wide.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, leaning back into her husband as his hand wrapped around her waist. He kissed her neck and she sighed happily. “Cassie, AJ, it’s beautiful!”

She stepped forward, embracing her son and daughter tightly. The dark haired boy was the spitting image of his mother; dark hair, blue eyes and a gregarious nature, always looking for the next adventure. Cassie, on the other hand, with her blonde hair and charming smile, looked like her father and had his more conservative nature, always looking at the consequences. Together, they represented the best of their parents. 

Diana looked up at Arthur and smiled. “We truly are blessed,” she said, standing and pulling him into a kiss. They both smiled at each other and kissed a second time.

Her husband drew the back of his hand across her cheek, fingers curling into her dark hair. “Yes, the Gods have smiled on us for sure, my Queen,” he kissed her, eyes closing as he bent into the kiss. 

“Ew gross!” AJ said, squishing his face up, as little boys tend to do when their parents express their romance and desires.  
Cassie gave him a light push, enough to knock the poor boy onto his backside; she was her mother’s daughter after all. “It’s not gross,” she paused with a dreamy tone. “It’s romantic!” The little girl swooned over her parents expressing their romance, twisting her hips from side to side, smiling. 

Their kiss ended and Diana found the dream world slipping away as her blue eyes fluttered open. Instead of the handsome, God like face of her would be husband of a future ripped asunder by jealousy and hatred she saw the white and violet drapery that covered what would have been her marriage bed. The lonely Amazon queen let out an exhausted sigh.

That sweet voice, that sweet gentle voice that she had loved and learned to hate, was gone. It was a memory. A figment of her imagination; a soft, warm dream on a cold night. It was something Diana had yearned for since the end of the war. His warm voice, the touch of his hand... 

“Diana,” Arthur’s voice called as if he were right here... She pushed the sheet back, climbing from her bed down to the shore where she heard him calling. While she knew this couldn’t be true; that Arthur would never come to her, his voice so soft, so warm, so loving, ever again. That time passed; between the war, the deaths, the hatred they had spewed at each other, even while her heart ached at the pain she had caused him, she knew she would never again be with the only man she had ever wanted to love. 

And yet, she found herself, boundless, sprinting down the steps to the propylon, her bare feet hardly noticing the cold marble fading into coarse sand as she dashed out. 

It was a warm night; the songs and scents of Themyscira hanging over her island exile. On most nights, the sounds mocked her, but tonight she failed to notice them. The smell of salt, the warm voice of the man who would have broken all tradition, marrying an Amazon Princess, who would one day reign as Queen of two monarchies, introducing a King to the all-female society, drove her beyond logic. 

The sound was coming from the ocean; a shadowy outline stood, just hint of red reflecting off his shoulders in the moonlight, confirming that it was him, her once and never King. The figure’s arms opened to her, head tilting to the side, beckoning her to him. 

“My Queen,” a shadowy figure spoke, reaching a black gloved hand out for her. 

It was as if she were intoxicated; drunk off the memory of what it was like to be in his arms. While it was never openly discussed whether they truly were in love, and in fact during the war hotly debated their open hatred for each other, Diana had never felt the connection she had with Arthur with anyone else, male or female. That is why, she believed, she dreamed of him, she heard his voice on the wind. Why their last meeting, her attempt to extend an olive branch to the war ravaged king, hurt so very much.  
She rushed the figure, unable to resist his lure. Her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders as his own wrapped around her waist. He bent to kiss her and she was met with the salt water that always clung to his lips. 

“You are breath taking,” he spoke, none of the anger that he possessed the last time they were together, none of the hatred or bitterness touched the words he had said on what would have been their wedding day. He stroked her cheek and kissed her a second time, lips tasting sweet and salty, bringing emotions buried deep within the Amazon queen to the surface. 

His arms tightened around her, and it was then she was hit by the foul stench, rotten fish and sun burnt death, but it was already too late.

Diana felt the cold wash of the waves rising over her head as she was dragged under the surface of the water. She could hold her breath for some time, but not forever, and the urge to fight back against the almost iron grip was immediate. Why would he do this? She wondered to herself.

It was then the creature’s true form, a Sea Cyclops, was evident now. 

Arthur had shown her these creatures before in better times; they were kept as pets by many sea gods, his Gods. This one bore the mark of Triton, she recognized her one time suitor’s scars anywhere, and was nothing like the youths she had seen before. It was large and very strong, tentacles gripping her, tightening with every thrash of struggle she attempted. Having come from her slumber, Diana was unarmed except for the Lasso of Truth, which she had with her at all times. Her loose fitting clothing, breezy and comfortable on the surface, was a hindrance in the water, tangling her legs and allowing the creature to drag her further below. 

And it was to Triton’s shrine she was taken, kicking and thrashing the entire time. The water was cloudy with blood, a reddish rusty brown that hung like a haze, disembodied tentacles and debris floating around him as he stood, ever proud, with his back arched, his head held high, as if she was coming to him of her own will. 

He smiled, a sneer that made Diana wretch. Triton was the eldest son of Poseidon, and one of the worst tempered. He had tried to court Diana in her youth, before she met Arthur. Her Mother, under the protection of the Goddesses Athena and Aphrodite, who had no love, ironically, for the God of the Sea or his children, denied him access to her only daughter, protecting the then still child Diana from a fate worse than Persephone’s. 

“First you decline my proposal, Amazon,” his voice came to her, his hand gripping her throat, the Cyclops still holding her tightly, squeezing her body tightly against her thrashing. “Then you agree to marry the usurper? I should let you drown.”  
He held his face inches from hers and she could feel the heat of his breath through the water. “But, it would be such a waste,” he said, reaching for her waist, where the golden lariat was wrapped around her middle. He took it, binding her hands before he bid the creature to release her. 

“I know your secrets, my Queen,” he chuckled. Her secret was that she would fall victim to the whims of whom ever were to bind her; she would be their obedient servant, especially when bound by her own lasso. With her hands tied, but body freed, she felt even more compressed than before. How had Triton learned her secrets? 

“Here are your options. I can kill you for the humiliation you caused me, denying my proposal, but not before I resink that chunk of rock you call Paradise, killing all of your precious Amazons and the refugees you’ve taken in as balm to your blood stained conscience,” he paused, his white teeth reflecting in the darkness of the water as moonlight struggled to penetrate the dark waters. “Then, I’ll make you watch as I gut your little fishy boyfriend like the guppy he is, let you die knowing you could have prevented all of that pain, all the suffering…”

He tugged her forward until she collided with him. The God Son chuckled; pulling her close, hand sliding down to her backside and roughly gripping it. The look of disgust and horror, the turn of her face away from the horrid divinity in front of her, made the laughter bigger. 

“Oh poor Princess,” he chided, cupping her chin and forcing him to look at him. “Are you still pure?” His grin was sickening, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light that filtered through the murky water. “Poor Arthur... All that work for nothing, good thing you let him keep that little redheaded fish around...” 

Diana winched as he mentioned Mera. Mera had been Arthur’s lover, before he and Diana had even met. She loved him dearly, more than Diana, or at least more surely than Diana had. She had made a concession; she would not deny her husband a discreet affair with the woman he so dearly, so obviously, loved. When their wedding was called off, he quickly married his redheaded lover, making her Queen of Atlantis, a title that should have been Diana’s, that would have been Diana’s. Then, in a true move of subterfuge, his brother and most trusted adviser Orm talked Mera into believing that she could defeat the Amazonian Queen. 

Mera was a rival for Arthur’s affection, but never was she a match for the Queen in combat. Diana, furious at the audacity that the Atlantian Queen, a usurper of a throne she had been so ready to take herself, slaughtered the red haired siren, sending her body back to Arthur without her head. She donned the helmet of the Queen of Atlantis, claiming it as a right. 

Diana would admit. It was not her finest point, and it was a turning point in the war. It was the point of no return, regardless of what Arthur told her. 

He cupped her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. “But back to business,” he chuckled, pulling her close for a putrid kiss. “Option two: you can help me reclaim what is rightfully mine. You will take your spot as the Queen of Atlantis, and I will be the first King of Themyscira...” 

Her head was starting to pound, her eyes rolling back as he pulled her to him once more, kissing her deeply this time. The kiss was not just to prove dominance over the Queen, but to deliver a precious breath of air. 

“Your army will be at my disposal, and I will save your little fishy boyfriend from his inevitable fate.”

Diana felt sick, not just from the smell, but the thought of being Triton’s queen. She had denied him for several reasons, not the least of which was he was untrustworthy. The Son of Poseidon, sworn enemy of the Amazon patron Aphrodite, he was the strongest, but least honest, of his brothers. He had killed his own brothers to reign as the strongest of Poseidon’s children.  
“Amazon, you’re running out of air,” he said with a mocking tone. “What is your answer? Will you die? Or will you be my queen?”

She closed her eyes, feeling her stomach turn as she nodded her head slowly, a curtain of black hair floating around her as she did. She didn’t do it for herself; she didn’t care about the crowns any more. For Arthur, for her Amazons who had been through so much already, she had no choice. The world swirled around her and she blacked out as she heard Triton laughing, releasing her hands and returning her lasso to give her a fighting chance with Arthur. She began to drift towards the surface, her brain and lungs burning from the lack of breath. Arthur... She thought, I'm so sorry...

I do, and will always, love you...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In the deepest part of the Atlantic ocean, seated amongst the deepest waters at the base of the Laurentian Abyss off the east coast of Canada, beyond where light can reach, Arthur sat. The pressure was so deep at this point that it was thought that nothing living could survive, and if it did, it would have to contend with the cold, and as such would not be suited to life on the surface, and yet, the red scale armour clad King sat. 

Around him were the ruins of what once was the greatest on the face of the planet, and even below the surface: Poseidonis. It was once the capitol city of Atlantis. In the centre sat the throne, and on it was the King and Emperor, the water around him stained a deep red. Where the angler fish passed by, their light would shine around, reflecting off the debris, body parts that floated around him in a disgusting mess. 

Corpses in various stages of decomposition floated like leaves. Some where reipped open, others cut, slashed and disemboweled, and others still battered and crushed by the tremendous force. The dead ran the gamut from humanoids, such as other Atlantians and Mermen, but others were more animalistic, drawn from races of ancient sea creatures, the once feared nightmares of the depths, demi Gods and divine life forms. Others still were too far gone to be described as anything other than “parts.”

On the throne, the King was darkly clothed; long gone were the hopeful shades of orange, gold and green, traded for the blood red and black of war. A scar cut gruesomely across his face, the result of Diana’s sword. His scale armour glimmered like freshly shed blood, spanning his thick chest. In his hand he gripped a weapon that was a stark difference from the rest of the scene, seemingly giving off a light of its own: bright, shining and golden, the divine weapon of the Greek God of the Sea himself. 

He was Orin, the King of Atlantis, the one time would be King of Themyscira, the Emperor of the Seas, but now... What did he see around him? Decimated capitol city? A desperate and rebellion filled empire? All manner of creatures and sea life had sought to subvert and challenge his rule, their corpses littering the water around him, floating dead and helpless. It was disgusting, the scent assaulting him through the water, but it served as a violent and stark warning to those would challenge his rule. He was the King, for all the title meant...

As he sat, far away he felt the motions of the sea; there was something stirring. There was a time when he might have cared, but that time had passed. He had lost so much in the war with the Amazons, done such inhumane acts in the name of defiance, in the name of destroying the woman who, at one time, was to be his wife. 

Not that it mattered now; nothing mattered now beyond the very moment. As far as he was concerned he was the Lord of nothing, and to think otherwise was to be foolish, a foolishness shared by only one other. He sighed, feeling bitter at letting himself come to think of her once again. His was a life dedicated to the fight, to blood, to nothing but the next battle. It was all he could live for. No, not live; this was not a life to be lived. It was merely an existence. 

Let any who might wish to challenge him come, perhaps one worthy of the challenge would find him and put him out of the misery he was kept in. Doubtful, though, he thought to himself. For many had sought to challenge him; all had fallen to the power of his trident. Let them come, he thought. I will gladly grant their death. The dark misery in his heart sought joy only in the pain and suffering of others. 

In the distance, a sweet, soft voice called to him. “Arthur, my Love.” Mera... But she was dead. He knew she was dead. He had been sent his lover, his Queen’s, body by her. 

“My King.” The second voice was decidedly less playful than the first, belonging to his first fiancé, the Princess then Warrior Queen of the Amazons, Diana. Her voice was stronger, but it sent a dark, visceral bile through the King. Oh how he hated her. Oh how he longed to bring an end to Diana, Queen of the Amazons. For all the devastation she had brought on to him, and yet... “My brave hero...” Her voice called to him again when he failed to respond the first time. Those words forced him back years before the war...

Prince and Princess, not King and Queen, young, both beautiful, both curious about the others’ world; he had rescued her, then learned she was no damsel in distress, merely a curious, young warrior, not unlike himself. He remembered her, beautiful and radiant in her simplicity. She was the antithesis of the woman he had already, informally, promised his heart and hand to.   
Their marriage was, mostly, a political union, or at least that was what they referred to it as. The emotions between the two were complicated. Did they love each other? Yes. Did Arthur also love Mera? Very much so. Diana knew that, and was gracious enough about the idea of permitting, allowing, a discreet affair for her King. 

As his mind begin to think of the fonder parts of his romance, Mera’s voice called to him again. “Oh, my Love,” she said wistfully. “Silly, man – she never loved you. You were her job...” Arthur turned to see where Mera’s voice was coming from. Deep in the shadows to his right there was nothing to be seen, merely a faint glimmer of red... Shimmering, floating, flowing red, the hair of the slain Queen of Atlantis. 

“I loved you desperately,” the disembodied voice of the Amazon called back from his left. With dark hair, the Amazon did not illuminate that way, but the golden lasso the Queen always carried with her, cast a light similar to that which was cast by his own trident. The golden glimmer highlighted the curve of her body, the slimness of her waist versus the swell of her hip. 

“And yet you would let him find comfort with me...” 

“He loved you, who was I to deny him.” 

The two women bickered back and forth continuously. Each endlessly upping the ante, claiming a greater right to Orin’s love, the throne of the lost Kingdom of Atlantis and the bulk of his attentions. Their volume rose until their words almost seemed to circle around him, drowning out his own thoughts. 

“Enough!” he finally shouted, growling and slamming his trident down into the stone of his dais. He shot a bolt of lightning to what he felt was the source of the two voices. The pillars the “women” had been hiding behind exploded into rubble. 

“Mera’s dead!” he growled, sending a shot to the right, the lightning licking out and destroying the pillar. “And you!” He turned, bringing down the column on the other side. “You know better than to show your face around here!”

His chest heaved. His blood boiled, but then something clicked. 

Diana had reached out to him; she had thrown her crown into the ocean, with her unbreakable lasso floating out into the tide to lead him to her. He had seen her; she hadn’t aged. She was as painfully beautiful, physically, as she had been on the day that should have been their wedding. But the key was she had reached out to him passively. She knew where Atlantis was, and yet she called to him, allowing him to come to her should he wish to. 

Something was not right; he was not sure who was playing games with him, but whoever it was they would answer his questions before he took their life with his trident. 

What lingered in the darkness, near pitch blackness, was a shimmer of gold. The Queen’s tiara had been thrown back in. 

Arthur stood up slowly, walking to the pile of ruble that the golden diadem was resting on, picking it up carefully and inspecting it. It was twisted, damaged, as if the wearer had received a severe head injury.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself, his blue eyes looking up to the surface, miles above him. “Very interesting indeed...”

The echo of Diana’s voice in the back of his head whispered, “I am sorry…” Thinking it still part of the illusion, the king shook his head, but hard as he tried, he was unable to shake the voice away, leaving him to think that perhaps it was the witch.   
When he had been courting her, their bond had grown exceptionally strong, to the point where his telepathy allowed for him to not entirely read her thoughts, but sense her feelings, her happiness, her sorrow. During the war, when faced with the raging warrior, he found her anger affecting him, fueling his own lust for blood and destruction. Perhaps threads of that bond, years after, remained…

The words “I love you…” echoed unanswered as he felt the tremor settle in the water. Unsettling as it was, Arthur was inclined to believe those words were not of the earlier apparitions. It was Diana’s voice, her soft whispers he remembered, driving his blood to a boil, as they laid together in the sun, along the rocky outcroppings surrounding her island. They were young, and perhaps in love, perhaps just drawn to each other by a sense of duty, but very much intoxicated with the possibilities that were laid out before them. 

He remembered when she first told him she might love him; that what started out as a well-orchestrated arrangement to unite and bring two powerful ancient societies into Man’s Modern World, was turning into something much more complicated. She had been so innocent, so coy and yet so honest with him about it, worried about how it would affect him, how it would reflect upon Mera. 

He could still remember her softness in his arms as she hid her face, still so childish and innocent in many ways. He had laughed, not at her but to disrupt the tension seething from her, tipped her chin up to him and told her he felt the same. Looking back on the time, the post war Emperor couldn’t remember if he had lied to her in order to make her feel better or told the truth. 

If asked now, he would say he lied.

If he really thought about it, it made his blood boil.

He had been telling the truth. He had begun to love her. 

Satisfied the disturbance was dealt with, the king returned to his throne, awaiting yet more challengers.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

                Diana’s body broke the surface, her head thrust back as she shot out of the water like a dart, gasping for precious, live giving air. Her chest heaved, her lungs burnt, and she gave thanks and prayers to the Blessed Gods for allowing her to keep the gifts they had bestowed on her, including strength, stamina and flight. Her ability to fly allowed her to completely remove her body from the water, no longer wishing her scent to linger on the current, or be in the realm of Triton.

                The challenge had been laid by the son of the Sea God, and yet Diana’s mind and heart were unfocussed. He would sink Themyscira again, then slaughter the survivors and Arthur. Regardless of the ill between them, her heart ached for the companionship, the sameness, he provided, and the idea he would survive the battle was worth the sacrifice of herself.

                The scent of rotten fish followed her to the surface, but within her mind she could still smell the flowers of her dream, the scent of her long lost love, the youth and innocence of their stolen, testing kisses. Oh Hera, what was she to do.

                Triton was not strong enough on his own to kill Arthur; Diana knew that, He was a valiant fighter, strong, skilled and with a capacity for violence and aggression surpassed only by her own. Arthur would take any measure needed to win. She was not necessarily worried for Arthur, not until he demanded Arthur’s trident.

                On his own, Triton was no match for his Father’s Champion, but blessed with the gift of the champion, the Trident of Poseidon, he would be able to match Arthur, at the very least, if not destroy the other man. This made Diana worry.

                Her Amazons, on the other hand. Fighters, yes, but his threat to sink the recently re raised Themyscira, which had been lost in the opening volleys of the Atlantian/Amazonian War and then re raised as a gift from the Gods, the last of the favours Diana could expect to receive for a very long time… It was a very real, visceral threat.

                Since the end of the war, Diana had returned her Amazons from Great Britain, which they had invaded and conquered, claiming it as “New Themyscira,” taking in refugees as they went. Women who were persecuted, who were under the threat of violence, who were not considered people in their own homes, were welcomed to come take refuge on the Island of the Amazons. Donna, her sister, had done such a good job of leading the island’s political structure, setting up the programs; she would make a great Queen one day…

                She would abdicate; Triton would not reign as King of the Amazons. Donna was more than able to take the role. Knowing that plan was settled, Diana was less concerned, though still unaware of what move, physically, she should take next.

                Her lasso had finally broke the surface, and gingerly she floated down to grab the golden filament, her fingers gripping tightly, winding it back to her hip before taking a deep breath.

 

* * *

 

 

                The witch watched from a distance, her portal providing her clear vision to the goings on in the ruins of Poseidonis. She let out a bark of cruel laughter as Arthur shot at his former loves. “Oh, poor pitiful sea king,” her voice, sickly sweet and melodic echoed to the nothingness of her chambers. “I have nothing against you, handsome handsome Champion of the Oceans, but you see, your darling bride to be and I have a bit of … history…”

                Circe’s purple lips pulled back into a sneer as she turned, thinking about the exile Hippolyta, mother of Diana, former Queen of the Amazons, had forced her to undergo. Since the betrayal of Penthesileia and the Atlantian Orm saw the Queen perish, the violet haired sorceress decided that her revenge would fall to the next in line: Diana, Queen of the Amazons.

                “Maybe Triton will allow you to come stay with me, pretty boy…” she laughed, closing her view on his face. A nasty scar from Diana’s sword crossed his face, but never the less, it would add even more insult to the injury. Her spells had worked; Diana still loved Arthur, deeply, and to see him under Circe’s control, to see him made her consort. Oh the witch twittered with glee at the mere thought of it!

                He, on the other hand… Arthur, King of Atlantis, was more stubborn. Circe had to assume that sending back the headless body of his Queen, his true love, Mera, had turned him off the beautiful Amazon, gifts of Aphrodite be damned.

That, in and of itself, was cruel, but not if Diana couldn’t see it. Circe would have to plot a way for the broody king and the heart broken queen to reunite, as Diana’s plan, which did see the pair meet face to face for the first time in over two years, was unfruitful.

“What on earth could that silly girl have expected,” she shook her head thinking back to the meeting. Circe had planted the idea in Diana’s brain even before she had talked Hades into letting Triton out of his underworld prison; she was hoping that the Atlantian would slaughter the Amazonian, or at least sufficiently destroy her spirit.

Never mind that now, though, she had a much better plan, one that was much more humiliating than her original one.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Diana had returned to Exile, the unofficial name of the jagged outcropping of small islands that surrounded Themyscira. Originally, before Themyscira had been sunk, the islands were a lush paradise, as beautiful and green as the main island, if not just a little more. The island was to serve as Diana and Arthur’s home, for even as her King, he could not step foot or reside on the island of the Amazons as per the law of the Gods. Smiling favour and severing old hatreds, Aphrodite, one of Diana’s patrons and Goddess of Love, and Poseidon, Arthur’s patron and God of the Sea, raised a large enough piece of land from the sea so the two should have a home, a private place for their love to be shared.

It was that land that was now Diana’s prison in a cruel twist of irony. The bed she was to share with her husband a constant reminder of her failures as a Queen and an Amazon. The Island was only home to two buildings; the one which homed Diana in her solitude and the one where she built a monument to the war that had landed her here. It was not a monument built in victory, but rather remembrance; one of the shining central pieces of the collection was the Helm of the Atlantian Queen.

Diana entered the temple, her fingers brushing over the smooth curve of the golden helmet. It was supposed to have belonged to her, but rather Mera worn it in battle, before Diana slaughtered her. To this day, Diana was unaware of what possessed the other Queen to challenge her. She had been cocky while Arthur was showing her Atlantis, suggesting that Diana might even need a lesson on how to handle a trident, an unnecessary point of competition between the two. Diana showed proficiency with ease, shutting up the insufferable concubine, all be it temporarily.

She hadn’t been surprised to find Arthur had taken her as his Queen, merely saddened. It was then she realized there was no return from where they had gone. They would not be able to turn back.

In the centre of the main antechamber was a case holding the armour she wore in the war, but also the more famous corset and star spangled skirt her mother had donned when first exploring Man’s World. Her fingers rested upon the golden tiara, a large, smooth, flat piece of gold molded to fit with a red star emblazed upon the centre. As Wonder Woman, in Man’s World originally, the Queen of the Amazons had been a symbol for hope, peace, and the power of love. Diana had perverted that, and in such perverted her mother’s memory.

She longed to be worthy of the armour her mother wore, but knew after allowing her aunt to use her like that, Diana was not worthy of being _that_ Wonder Woman. She had to work on rehabbing her own version of the symbol before she could dare to inhabit her mother’s spirit.

The case to the left of Hippolyta’s costume, and her royal wear, held Diana’s armour from the war. She looked up as it stood on hooks and wires behind the glass. A long, dangerous sword, the one that had taken what should have been a dear friend and sister’s life hung down the side, metal plating along the hips, chest and shoulders had protected her from her former fiancé’s trident. Her crest was blazed across the centre of her chest plate, scarred, scratched and worn from battle. Above, on a tray, sat the diadem she had worn during battle; much smaller than her mother’s tiara, it had to fit under Mera’s helmet, after all.

Gingerly she reached up to her shoulders, unpinning her chiton and letting the loose, wet cotton fall away to the floor. It landed with a wet sound and she stepped out of it, opening the case and, grudgingly, began to dress for war once again.

She placed the tiara on her head, fixing her hair around the diadem, looking into the near empty case. She had left much of her heavier plating inside; there was no need for arm or leg plates, and she left her sword not wanting to give the King the wrong impression. She was going to come knocking on his door, and if she wanted him to answer, she certainly knew better than to come well-armed with the very sword that killed his beloved.

As she left the temple, to the east, on the other side of Themyscira, Diana could see the sun rising. “Appollo, blessed by your holy Sisters, may they protect me and guide me as I go,” she whispered, her lips barely moving as she closed her eyes, offering silent tribute to each of her patrons, including perhaps most reluctantly, Ares, the God of War and only male God she ever truly patronized.

During the war it had come out that Hippolyta and Ares had engaged in a very long affair, resulting not only in Diana’s allegedly half-brother Thrax, but perhaps in Diana herself. By this time, Hippolyta was dead and Diana, flush and thriving in battle, certainly resembled all that Ares would want from a child, but would neither confirm nor deny paternity.

She left the temple and turned, looking at the helmet. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, pressing her gloved fingers to her lips before pressing them to the helmet. “I never meant to hurt you, in anything…”

She was brought back to a meeting between the two women, Diana had sent for Mera while she was staying in Poseidonis, learning the culture and pomp and circumstance required of an Atlantian Queen, something Mera knew all about but had refused to take part in. Diana did not grudge her the jealousy she felt; Mera had grown up knowing, or at least thinking she knew, what place she was going to occupy in society, and in Arthur’s life, and a chance meeting and a political maneuver later and all of that was gone.

“What on Earth can I have to say to you, Amazon?” Mera said, her lip twitching just a little.

“I don’t want to be your enemy,” Diana said, tilting her head to the side. “We should not be enemies.”

“Says the woman who stole my love.”

“I stole nothing,” Diana spoke softly, channelling the calm serenity of her mother. It was true, prior to the war and her Aunt’s goading, Diana was more like Hippolyta than either would admit, calm and patient almost to the point of madness. “He still loves you very much. It breaks his heart to see you hurting.”

Mera had been stunned by her words, but it was enough of an opening for Diana to talk, to get to know Mera. The two women learned much that night; they shared so many things, and Arthur was only a minor point.

“I should like for him to be… discrete,” Diana said. “But I cannot deny him the love you two share.”

She was sure that she had confused the poor girl with her comment; allowing Arthur to retain his mistress provided they kept things quiet.

“Our marriage isn’t one of love, like yours would have been,” Diana continued, trying to explain where she was coming from. “We are simply doing our duties, as monarchs are wont to, doing what is best for our kingdoms. We are not in love.” She had meant it when she told Mera she had no real romantic interest in Arthur.

She had also meant it when she told Arthur she was falling in love with him just a few days later.

The warrior queen snapped out of her memories, standing at the edge of the ocean, looking out onto the water seemingly set ablaze by the rising of the sun. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her gloved hand and took a deep breath.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Posiedonis was difficult to find if you knew where it was, impossible to find if you didn’t, and this was before war and the revolutions, insurrections and civil unrest that occurred after the war on the surface had stopped.

Where before there had always been a soft glow filtering up through the water from the impossible depths, now there was no signs of what had once been the greatest city on Earth. Again, she was struck with remorse. While her Gods had been gracious to her, she had humbly thrown herself at their feet, begging that her Amazons, who had already suffered so much, so wrongly, pawns in her Aunt’s game and victims of Diana’s rage, be spared from any more war, any more pain.

She knew how lucky she was that the Gods looked kindly upon her; a last gift of blessing before being all but abandoned.

Arthur and his kingdom hadn’t been so lucky. When she had last spoken to him, he looked aged, haggard and like the war hadn’t even paused. He informed her that while peace had returned to Themyscira, war had broken out below the surface. She wanted to help him, but was unsure how to offer without sounding… useless.

She had a rebreather in a pouch at her hip. Taking it out and affixing it to her face only took a moment, and in the mean time she cleared her head. It was not her fault that Arthur’s grip on his throne was slipping; he might try to blame her but it was not her fault.

The Amazon Queen shot into the air; she wanted to gain enough speed to fight off the crushing depths of Poseidonis. While she was aware of the pressure, and the cold water, she didn’t _feel_ it. Her armour held up wonderfully, even as she reached the edges of the city.

The water was dark, the light from the rising sun was unable to penetrate, and even if it were to get that deep, the water was tainted with blood. Even through the rebreather, Diana could taste the bitter, metallic taste of blood in the water, along with the same scent of decaying flesh she had smelt when Triton had taken her.

She had to be very close to the city before she could really get a handle on the devastation laid out before her. The once glamorous sub-marianian metropolis of Poseidonis, the capitol city of Atlantis, was in ruin. The once grand towers had been destroyed, little more than broken and decimated piles of rubble and rock. It was enough to stop the warrior queen in her steps, bringing a hand to her face as if to hide the shock from unseen eyes.

When Arthur had told her that Atlantis was going, she had never imagined this level of devastation. It truly was _gone_ – there was nothing left of the once great empire.

“Oh Arthur,” she whispered… She knew well the pain he would feel, the loss of home and comfort, if it had ever offered him that in the years following the war.

As she crept closer, her strides and strokes steady but becoming slower. As she crept closer to the large centre of the city, the debris got thicker, corpses littered the seabed floor, bodies in various stages of decay were found resting, floating, being picked over by the various bottom dwellers. Angler fish came out then darted away, fearful of Diana as she passed through on her way to the Imperial Palace.

The stairs remained, though most of the grand architecture was gone. She walked up the stairs with caution, her heart racing. She hadn’t been to the palace in years, since before the war. It had been a beautiful construction; it had even survived the sinking of Atlantis, and stood the test of time through other wars and insurrections.

“Arthur?” she called as she reached the top of the steps, her voice quieter than she had intended. She didn’t want him to think she was sneaking up on him, or trying to get the drop on him. She knew well enough that she was unwanted, and pushing the envelope in this case was probably not the smartest of ideas, but she needed Arthur’s help... Bad.

“Orin?” she tried his Atlantian name, speaking a little louder this time.

She saw him at a distance across the grand chamber and her heart raced. His profile was aimed to her, and the angler fish set off a soft glow, but they wisely kept their distance.

He was aware of her presence before she spoke, of course, he could smell her, a scent he used to enjoy, long for even, now turned his stomach more than that of the rotten fish that hovered around him. He felt her heart beat next, growing steadily quicker with each step forward. He found it odd that she was walking rather than swimming, but imagined that it was her prerogative; even when they were courting he would try to get her to swim, she would prefer to walk, even when he likened it to “flying in the water.”

He mentally rolled his eyes with the thought of all the wasted effort he had spent on the insufferable woman now entering what was formerly the grand hall. What fresh hell did she come to torment him with? Beat him over the head with his lost wife’s name? Compare herself to the dead woman to no end? Oh how he wished he had just gone through and killed her...

And yet, a little part of him, a part he would suppress and deny, was titillated by the fact she would come to him. At the very least he was curious: what would draw the Amazon queen into his realm, so far away from her safety, so far under the waves. One good strike to her face and she would be at his mercy; he had done it before and she had chosen to flee rather than continue the fight, he wondered if he could be so lucky a second time.

His head crooked to the side as he finally turned, looking over to the Amazon queen, regarding her carefully. He didn’t speak, but his blue eyes were cold, shooting daggers towards the entreating rival.

“Arthur, I need your help,” she said, finally coming within reasonable distance of the brooding king.

He continued to stare at her, unblinking and without responding.

“Triton has... threatened Themyscira, and I need your help to stop him,” she said, her voice honest and blue eyes pleading for him.

The blonde man raised his eyebrows, his eyes narrowing just a little as he observed and listened to her request. “One, Triton is dead,” he started by stating the obvious. The battle between Orin and the eldest son of Poseidon was a long, drawn out and bloody one. “I killed him with my own hand,” he added, as if it was necessary. “Two, why should I help you?”

“He has threatened my home... The Amazons; he will sink Themyscira,” she said, taking another step forward, closing the gap between her and the base of the stairs rising up to the throne. It was set slightly off centre, clearly meant to be one of a pair. She had no desire to find out what had happened to the other throne, there was no scenario she could come up with that was anything but tragic.

“He was right there, as real as you are now,” she said. “He held me captive, and even knew my weaknesses...” She was confused.

Arthur looked at her, knowing she was telling the truth, she always told the truth. Arthur wasn’t sure she was even capable of lying. He pondered this for a moment, stroking his chin with his black gloved hand. “I have been assailed by magical constructs of Mera and yourself,” he said. “Perhaps there is something more to this. Someone trying to manipulate us again.”

Again. Now there was a frightening idea. Once the pair had been manipulated, turning their love into one of the most bitter hatreds either had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

“I was afraid of this,” Diana spoke softly, looking down. She was keeping something from him; he may not have got to love her in the way he was hoping, but he knew the Amazon well enough to read her tells. “There is always the chance that someone, given the right knowledge and proper... bribe, could release Triton from his uncle Hades’ kingdom...”

Arthur didn’t want to hear it. “He is dead!” the blonde man said, standing up, slamming the base of his trident into the ground as he backed the words at his onetime would be Queen, as if to menace or frighten her. He leaned forward, still standing at the top of the royal dais. “I watched as the life drained from his soulless eyes myself,” he answered, coldly.  “I kill him with my own hands, I think I am sure.”

He didn’t get it. The person they were potentially up against would be more than willing to free Triton from the Land of the Dead, paying both the Ferryman Charon and Lord God Hades handsomely for their time.

“We both know that Gods can return from the dead,” she started, but was cut off.

“He is dead!”

“My Mother had a powerful enemy, she was freed when the war started,” Diana failed to include that they suspected Mera of being the one who released Circe. “A sorceress, strong enough to conjure images and fantasies from nothing, who would think nothing of promising anything to Hades to free someone to harm me...”

Her voice trailed down, as did her face, she didn’t need to look at Orin to know his face would be alight with rage at the thought of being used as a pawn, especially a pawn in a game designed to hurt Diana. She knew it wasn’t because he cared for her, it was quite the opposite; being used in a game against the Queen would mean he would be forced to interact with the Queen he hated so very much.

"What more are you hiding from me?” his voice was calm and low.

“What were the visions?”

“I asked you first.”

“Triton has promised to leave the island, and you, alone provided I fulfill my end of the bargain,” she said, not wanting to tell him that she promised her hand to the devious, disgusting son of his patron in order to save him, but the look on his face told Diana that he knew there was more to the story. “He wants me... In addition to Atlantis; he wants me to be at his side.” She hung her head simply.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Interesting...”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“You realize this means my death,” he said, resuming his seat on the lone throne atop the dais. “Why should I help you sign my own death warrant?”

“He has promised he’d spare you,” she said, realizing how pathetic it sounded to believe someone like Triton. “He gave me his word as the Son of a God.”

“That word is more useless than yours,” he snapped offhandedly, immediately regretting the words, but not letting the emotion register.

Her blue eyes flicked up at him, her red mouth drawing into a line. “Fine,” she said, her voice colder than it had been before. “If I don’t have your help, Themyscira will be resunk, and you will be haunted by those apparitions without end.” She didn’t want to threaten him, she had tried to avoid this, but she was proud of herself for drawing the line at telling him if he did not help her, she would return and take what she needed, by force if necessary.

They were at a stale mate. Two pairs of cold blue eyes met, neither willing to back down.

“You don’t have to help me, but it will be easier on both of us, and this whole situation can be done with faster, if you do,” she said, her voice steady as she spoke. “And as soon as this is all done, we don’t need to spend any extra time in each other’s company.”

He considered her offer for a moment. He hated to admit it, but he was mixed on her opinion that they should never have to be in each other’s company again, or perhaps it was her affecting him as she had been known to do.  

“What kind of apparitions were they?” she asked. She had been thinking that this was the work of Circe, a sneaky, snarky and sensual based sorceress who wouldn’t think twice about sinking beyond the realm of propriety to get what she wanted, and it seemed right now what she wanted was to hurt Diana, badly, and bringing Arthur into it, in any way, shape or form was a sure fire way to get the job done.

He was quiet for a moment, almost hesitating under the stare of Diana. Her lasso compelled obedience and truth, but he was sure that she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, use it on him. Not at this point. Arthur could remember what it felt like to be ensnared in the lasso’s grip; feeling the chord tighten around his throat and threaten to choke the very life out of him.

“They were of yourself and Mera,” the reluctant emperor finally admitted. “I do believe someone is trying to fool us.”

Diana simply nodded. She was becoming more convinced that Circe was working her specific brand of magic on the situation, but why bother going after Arthur?

"I was worried it might be something like this,” the Queen bowed her head.

“So what do you propose we do about this… problem?” Arthur’s tone was clear enough indication he wanted this dealt with quick and fast, so he could return to his brooding solitude.

“I do not suppose you would just hand me the trident and let me go on my own,” she said, her tone serious even if the request seemed like a joke.

Arthur was conflicted: did he simply continue to stare coldly at the moronic request or bark with a laugh of derision. He chose the prior option, continuing to stare down Diana.

“I didn’t think so,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But it would have been the easiest option.” Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Diana cut him off. “In that case, I suggest we outsmart him. We’re both adept at subterfuge and war making; this is just the same thing, on a different scale.”

Arthur stood, still simply regarding her. There was a fire below the surface, but she had matured, aging emotionally and mentally but remaining the same physical woman he had been so tempted by only a few short years ago. He let his mind unbidden wander; if there hadn’t been a war, would she have born him children? He had never thought about it, but how would he have dealt with the delicate issue of succession had Mera and Diana both carried sons into the world? A daughter of Diana would easily belong to the Amazon world, but a son would have no space, but there was always a chance he could be usurped by a child of Mera, male or female.

Shaking his head, the King dispersed the nagging thoughts of what could have been; they’re nothing but a waste of time and a useless distraction. Mera is dead; she will provide him with no heirs. Diana is… regretfully alive, but their relationship torn asunder; she too will provide no heirs to the throne of Atlantis. The Royal Line will die with him, in conflict if he had his way.

“Are you alright?” Diana had closed the distance, effort and almost soundlessly making her way to Arthur’s side without his notice. For a minute, the weakest part of him saw the shimmer of a woman who had cared deeply for him, and every other life. And as soon as it was registered, it disappeared, remembering the cruel indifference she had returned his beloved Mera’s body to him, without her head, and the crass action of wearing her helmet.

“I am fine,” he said coldly, though he was impressed when the brutal tone and shortness of his words, harsh even to his ears, failed to have any visible effect on Diana. “You said you believe you know who we are up against?” He turned away from her, attention drawn out by a movement Diana hadn’t noticed. There was something lurking in the darkness; Arthur could sense it.

“Yes, well, it seems having a powerful rival is not unique to me,” Diana started, still unaware of Arthur’s alert. “When my Mother wa…”

“Quiet,” he said, raising his left hand, his right, as always, gripping his trident, readied for action. His eyes were focused on what Diana had passed off as just corpses and blood clouds settling in the murky water.

She followed his line of sight, straining to make out any discernible shapes in the dimness. It was a struggle, but she thought she saw something moving, slowly waving. It could be what Arthur was alerted to, or it could be seaweed.

“Arthur, what is – !” Diana was cut off midsentence as her feet were drawn out from under her. On land, she would have face planted right into the steps at Arthur’s feet as she was dragged backwards. She felt a familiar burn set in and she remembered how Arthur and her had first met.

“Diana!” he shouted, turning swiftly, his trident thrusting forward with a bolt coming from it, muscle memory and habit rather than any real desire to save Diana.

The creature was illuminated for a moment; a cetus! How could Arthur have not noticed such a beast closing in? No doubt sent to watch over Diana to ensure she wasn’t going to double cross on her promise to Triton. Arthur gritted his teeth; if he hadn’t been so focussed on her, on her scent invading his nostrils, in denying her presence intoxicating his senses, he would have noticed the beast much earlier.

With the beast distracted by Arthur’s attack, Diana managed to struggle free, her gloves burning as she gripped the acidic tentacles of the monster. No need for leg armour, you said, she thought to herself as she pulled her gloves off, letting them float and disintegrate as she looked at the red welts on her legs already starting to grow inflamed. He had taken her for treatment once, but she wasn’t sure if he had been the one to treat her, or if he would even go through the effort if he knew how.

The creature’s tentacles surged forward, this time going after Arthur for the attack he had given it. She watched him parry, thrust and counter the barely sentient beast’s attacks with grace and fury; the last time she had seen such a magnificent warrior in action, she was at the receiving end of his fury. She was enchanted with the ease of his movements; his composure and skill had grown since their last combat, no doubt a credit to the near endless challenges for the title of King.

Diana didn’t know where the body was, but she knew that finding it would be the best bet. A crusted sword, still gripped by a near skeletal hand, was an easy offering of a weapon, and Diana was not too proud to accept. Working while Arthur distracted the creature, letting him dance between the dangerous appendages, Diana swam into the red black water away from the central opening of the chamber, trusting that Arthur would be okay.

She was tempted to turn back when she heard a painful scream; he must have let an attack slide past his defense. She couldn’t turn back, though. She had to be getting close, the water was warmer and the scent of blood thicker.

The beast’s body was massive, Diana wondered about how good an idea this really was but pushed the thoughts aside. The time for thinking had passed, action was required at this point. She readied the blade, dull and cumbersome as it was, double handing the hilt in preparation.

She tried to remember back to when she was being taught about the life down under the surface, both as a child learning of the Olympians and their creatures, and when Arthur, who was much more patient than her aunt had ever been, had taken the time to show her the Atlantian menagerie. While the cetus’ eye wouldn’t give off light of its own, it was very similar to any land predator in that their eyes were highly reflective, with pupils that could open almost the entire diameter of the eye to allow as much ambient light in as possible. While attacking, the creature closed its eye to protect it from whatever it was fighting, but, Diana was hoping that, based on what she had witnessed with the smaller sea Cyclops and with land predators, a painful attack would cause the eye to open, giving her the opening she needed to defeat it.

For his part, Arthur watched Diana swim into the darkness, following the tentacles back. He wondered if he should attempt to stop her; the mission was suicide in the best of conditions. Ultimately, he decided he was through trying to tell the Amazon what she should and should not do, it hadn’t served him well in the past, and she had proven a decided ability to tune out his advice, as good as it may be. Instead, he focussed his anger, the anger that had been brought on by Diana, her presence, and by being drawn back into her world, towards the creature.

The trident was an excellent stabbing weapon, but it wasn’t adept at slashing or amputating. Luckily enough for Arthur, most of the fallen challengers had been kind enough to die with their weapons in their hands, meaning that unused bladed weapons of all varieties and lengths were littered around him.

He selected a blade that was freshly fallen, there was no debris settled on it yet, the challenger’s corpse still mostly intact, picked over by only the bravest sea life to enter Arthur’s space when his mood was so dark. The blade was sharp, the edge still fresh; two feet of metal slicing edge, more than enough to take on the cetus’ tentacles. The triton switched to be held in his left, the sword in his right, the King of Atlantis exhibited the skills that had determined he would remain regardless of the determination of the various factions which saw to over throw him.

A strong swipe and the blade cut down, slashing partially through the first meaty appendage, getting stuck in the joints of the bone. As if carving a dead animal, Arthur thrust the trident into the beast’s flesh to hold it in place while he freed the blade. Another slash, and another, two tentacle heads fell to the sea bed.

His telepathy linked him to the beast, even as it laid shrivelling, writhing in agony. A satisfied smirk crossed his rough mouth, for a second forgetting that he had a partner in this particular battle; for so very long Arthur had been fighting alone he had forgotten entirely about Diana. His only memory of her presence was the faint hint of her blood in the water...

Her blood? The realization shook him, and again, it was muscle memory that sprung him forward. He would justify to himself that the actions were being taken to make sure that a second war was not started between the Amazons and the Atlantians, not that there was any empire left to take on the challenges. If she was going to die, she was not going to do it here, where he could be blamed.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

She hated waiting, especially feeling so exposed. There was very little light, and she would have to remain close to the beast in order to catch the eye when it opened. Her opening eventually did come, the beast letting out a screech from an unseen mouth, its singular eye opening and reflecting what minimal light there was into a milky white retinal lens. 

Diana moved swiftly, stabbing down deep as far and as hard as she could, right through the centre of the pupil. The blood was dark and rich, sprouting from the wound as the beast began to thrash and recoil, it’s dangerous tentacles going for Diana now, neglecting Arthur in the antechamber. She was slammed backwards, her hands leaving the sword as she was crushed back into the column. She let out a groan but quickly forced herself to stop, her rebreather had been knocked off by the thrashing tentacles as the creature went into its death throes. 

She tried to reposition herself, get to a position she could get to the antechamber again, to rendezvous with Arthur and let him know she needed to get to the surface as soon as possible, but it was impossible. She was thrown back a second time as the creature raged at the coming of its fate. 

Another scream, and a gasp, a vain attempt to take breath from the water, gagged her. Her head ricocheted back into the stone column, cracking the marble with the force. Diana was durable, extremely tough physically, and could take a hit, but the repeated blunt force to her body, the burning in her legs and the attempt to gasp for air, finding nothing but water, were taking its toll. She needed out. Now.

The hit had disoriented her, she was unable to tell which was up and down, the world seemed to be deciding to spin around her. Things got dark, but she swore she saw a shimmer of golden light coming from the other side of the monster.

“Diana!” she heard his voice call out from across the outer chamber. She couldn’t respond; she wished she could, but there was no breath left in her body to scream out. 

Arthur sent a bolt of lightning towards the creature; it was already dying, he just needed it to clear a path. He needed to get to Diana, now. He could see from the other side of the room she was in trouble. She didn’t respond, her body appeared to be “hanging” in the water, her eyes, lumescent as they always were, even in the dark, murky red stained water, were dark, perhaps even closed. 

He intercepted her free fall to the bottom of the sea bed, realizing immediately something was wrong. Her body was limp as he wrapped an arm around her waist, shoulders and head tilted back at an angle that denoted she had no control over her body at this point. “You stupid, stupid woman!” he growled, noticing her face was free of the rebreather device she had been wearing. 

“You always could be distracted by your own obsessions.”

He couldn’t see it, but knew neither of their bodies would suffer as a normal human would if he were to rapidly ascend to the surface. 

There was always the chance that it might be too late already; he hadn’t seen her get hit, he didn’t know how long she had been without air, or if her body had tried to breath when she was knocked unconscious, but again, a slim chance at having her survive to die on the surface rather than under the waves, it was worth it.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Circe watched through her mirror with delight as the lovers were reunited. For her revenge to reach full penetration, she would have to have the two fall back in love, to depend on each other once again, for the betrayal to be full when she and he were torn apart. 

“Oh dearest child of my most bitter rival,” she spoke to no one in particular. “Are you starting to long for his touch? Remember those sweet, stolen kisses, so private, so virginal, in the gardens?” Her voice swooned, sickly sweet as she stood up, feeling her very blood boil, her anger raging out of nowhere. 

No, she thought to herself. Not out of nowhere; out of the wrongs done to her by the former Queen, the wrongs done to her by Hippolyta, that the new Queen, Diana, must atone for. 

Her slender fingers, tipped with long, sharp, purple lacquered nails, cast over a goblet of sea water as she began to chant. It appeared that the love birds were not reuniting in an emotional way that they she had opened, certainly not fast enough for the inpatient witch. She had been waiting for centuries to get her revenge, she had waited so long that the original target of her revenge had died and she was left having to extract it from the original target’s progeny. Never mind, the child of Hippolyta, rumoured to have been sired by Ares himself, was a matter of two birds with one stone. 

Circe worked a spell, a love spell, not to blind the two to their problems, to the past violence between them. No, Circe was devious. She knew that the knife would cut deeper if, rather than forgetting their past sins against each other, Diana and Arthur forgave each other. If they forgave each other, and rekindled their romance, only to be torn apart... Circe couldn’t help but laugh out loud as she thought about the heart break the young Queen would suffer through. 

Circe cast the spell, her shimmering eyes fluttering shut as her full mouth spoke the words required to set the spell in motion; something designed to be so harmless, designed to be, in fact, quite helpful, was going to take on a much more devious meaning. It wouldn’t be a love spell, merely one that would remind them of their happier times, of the passion, if any, the two young lovers had shared in the past. He would forgive her trespasses, and she would forgive his, casting them off, perhaps, as desperate acts of war, a war neither of them really started. 

One part of Circe hated to provide such a balm to Diana’s soul, having so enjoyed watching the young Queen languish and suffered under the memories of the atrocities she committed, and the hatred that Arthur possessed for her. But, she would remind herself, the temporary relief of pain and anguish would make the final outcome, the broken hearts, that much more broken, her revenge would be that much sweeter. The higher the fall, the harder the landing.

When someone you love betrays you, you have nothing. You have no one. Nobody can be trusted anymore. And that's the most alone you can ever feel. Circe knew exactly how that felt, and soon so would Diana. She had been the favoured devote of Ares; she had even desired to bear a child for the God of War, but Hippolyta, with her axe and shield, had stolen her God from her.   
Her heart ached, her eye burnt, as she thought about the humiliation she had suffered. Hippolyta, brash, brazen and blood covered, fresh off the battle field. She had prayed to Ares, and to her own patrons as an Amazon, the Goddesses Aphrodite, Artemis, Athena and Demetre, for a child as a result of her battle field bravery. 

The popular rumour that Hippolyta told everyone, including the girl child herself, was that Diana was carved by Hippolyta’s own hand from clay, and that the Goddesses so blessed her mother as to be able to bestow life upon the clay form, the spirit of the child Hippolyta had been pregnant with when her first spirit was killed, prior to her resurrection as the Amazon Queen.   
Circe had been loyal; she had prayed and worked her magic for the benefit of Ares and his cult. She had gifted some of the stronger members of the cult with near invulnerability, and yet the Amazon was always favoured. And when Circe wished to bear a child, the honour was given to the barbaric sword slinger. 

She watched Arthur swimming gracefully, watching the blonde swim as naturally as, well, a fish. He was incredibly graceful, and with his blonde hair, shimmering like gold in the murky water, he almost reminded Circe of the love she had lost in the God of War. “Oh, this just gets better,” she swooned, drawing a finger along the mirror, caressing along Arthur’s shoulder. “Oh yes...”   
Her laughter echoed through the chamber, her revenge, as cold as it was, would be had. The sexually charged sorceress snapped her fingers, summoning one of her handsome boy toys she kept around. “Summon Triton, will you,” she said with a smirk. The beautiful slave nodded and disappeared out of the temple. 

When Ares had shunned her for Hippolyta, she began planning her revenge on the Amazons. She had dug through and discovered that the eldest son of Poseidon, a God named Triton, had once asked for Diana’s hand. She slighted him, turning him down. Conveniently enough, he still held a flame for her, and a grudge against her former fiancé.

It turns out, the little would be under water Romeo had killed Triton in order to secure his position as Poseidon’s favourite and champion. She called in her last favor from Hades, the God of the Underworld, and had his nephew returned to the land of the living, now owing Circe a favour, extended even further when she offered him the Amazon Queen.

“I just love when a plan comes together!” she tittered, laughing maniacally as she waved her hand, dispersing the images from her magical mirror.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Being forced to travel with their upper bodies out of the water slowed down the travel time from Poseidonis to Exile, but Arthur was still able to get himself and Diana to the island swiftly. He knew time was important; he had dealt with drowning victims before. He wouldn’t admit to anyone, least of all to the unconscious woman in his arms, but there were ulterior motivations to her rescue. Her death under the waves would attract the Amazons’ attention once again, true, and that was something he desperate to avoid. There was no way he could fend off a full on Amazonian invasion and fight with the challengers and rebels at once; and depending on whether her sister Donna took up the throne of Queen, she might band with the rebels…

Another part wished to keep her alive, at least for the time being, to help him defeat Triton, once and for all. Not that he physically needed the Amazon’s help, but her presence on the battlefield would be a great distraction to the Son of Poseidon, who had clearly shown his preference for the beautiful woman.

His mind cleared of all these things as he came across the small island she had been “retired” too.

The rocky island was tiny, nothing to boast about; Arthur imagined it wouldn’t take long to walk the circumference of it, even with the jagged and rocky coast line. He remembered when he had first visited the island, the lush greenery that had blossomed everywhere, as Diana, blushing and shy, held his hand, a big deal for her, less so for him, and walked him through what was basically a wedding gift from the Goddess of Love herself. How could they have gone so wrong with such a sponsor for their romance?

It looked nothing like the paradise he had remembered, and the cold rocks certainly brought to mind exile and hardship, isolation and loneliness; come to think of it, he kind of liked it this way.

Her body was limp in her arms as he dragged her up on to the rocks. With deft hands, he unclipped the binding chest plate, dragging it off her body; he needed to get access to her chest in order to resuscitate her. Arthur tilted her head back, pinching her nose shut with his fingers, pressing his lips to hers in order to get a tight seal. He breathed deep into her before moving, pressing his hands to her sternum and pumping, once, twice, three times.

Though he might wish her death, he’d rather see the light go out in her eyes himself than have her die by such a freak accident. Perhaps he wished a glorious death for her as for himself; a death that would see both of them, warriors forged and hardened in battle, die with the same courage and fortitude with which they lived.

He breathed into her mouth, pumped down on her chest, three more times before she gagged, salt water splashing out of her mouth, blue eyes going shock wide, desperate for the air that had been denied her.

Calmly, with minimal anger, Arthur helped her up into a seated position, an arm bracing around her lower back. “Sh...” he whispered, his hand moving up her back to rub her shoulders with the flat of his palm, his hand warm through her soaked shirt. “I brought you back to your island, it’s going to be okay.”

Her breathing slowed down and, unbidden and unconsciously, she leaned her shoulder into his chest, her head finding a comfortable spot against his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut and she revelled in the warmth of touch for a moment. It wasn’t that it was Arthur, but that it was someone, and not Triton. She had been so very alone, and for the first time in her near eternal existence.

She hadn’t expected herself to fall in love when she was paired with the King of Atlantis. She had expected a cordial relationship; that they would be friends and political partners, perhaps to share a bed and create an heir or two, the best option would be to produce two. She hadn’t expected herself to fall into his arms, fall into the role of a princess blinded by her emotions.  

He allowed her the brief moment before pushing her away, in truth enjoying the moment more than he would admit, even to himself; it had been a long time since Arthur had compassionate contact like this. “There is no time for stupid sentimentality,” his voice was harsh, as the hand that had been comforting on her back became harsh and pushed her away.

Diana hated to admit it, but his harsh words were rather hurtful. She hid the feelings deep and nodded. “You are correct,” she said, allowing her tone to affect a more regal, more military, tone rather than one of a sentimental and foolish girl swooning over a handsome man. There was no time for it. “The creature bore no marks,” she started.

“Not all of his slaves do,” Arthur said, getting himself to his feet before extending a hand to Diana, a courtesy and muscle memory from his father. _Always help a lady to her feet, it makes it easier to sweep her off them_ ; his father was a hopeless romantic, and in the years following the war he had found himself thinking less and less about the man who had taught him about life above the surface. “But you are correct, I get the feeling that was a challenger for me, and that you were just caught in the cross fire.”

Diana could barely believe it, was there remorse in the sound of his voice? Couldn’t be! She filed it away in her memory, along with the comforting feeling of his touch and the salt on his lips; now was not the time. “Regardless, we have work to do,” she looked at him. “We need a plan.”

“Killing him and then you isn’t good enough?” he said, a rare but cocky smirk pulling at his grizzled face.

“I hope you were not trying to make a joke,” she said, finding his attempt at humour out of touch and out of character. Diana turned her back to him, something she would never have thought about doing a short two years ago, leading him towards the temple, where among the relics and memories of a better time she kept her weapons from the war, including her sabre and her shield, she would need both for the journey ahead.

“Well, follow me, then,” she said, turning her head to watch Arthur over her shoulder. “You’re going to need more than just that pitch fork to wage war.” The Amazon queen smirked to herself as she turned away from him, crouching to grab her chest plate from the ground. “We need to work fast, Triton did not give me much time; the sun is beginning to set, which means we are already down a day.”

What a witch! Arthur thought to himself, narrowing her eyes at her. How dare she impugn on his Trident, the mark of the Champion of Poseidon. This weapon was more powerful than any in her arsenal, crafted by Hephaestus himself for the God of the Seas. He was so distracted by his inner rambling monologue that he hadn’t noticed she had gained significant ground on him and was almost at her temple.

“Witch,” he muttered under his breath as he began to stalk towards her, mindful of the rocky nature of the shore line.

“I heard that,” she called back, her voice loud and clear but lacking the strain of a yell, a trait he recognized in her long ago. She could command a battlefield with a powerful voice and presence and never seem to have raised her volume.

“Good!” he shouted back at her. Oh how he couldn’t wait for this to be over and to be rid of her forever.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“Your plan appears to be working well, witch,” the gravel toned voice of Triton called to Circe, who seemed entirely unimpressed by the presence of the son of Poseidon in her shrine. One of her handsome little toys had come, summoning him to see her, as if the son of the Sea God Poseidon could be ordered around like a common pet. He balked at the thought, but he was indebted to the witch; she had freed him from his uncle’s torment in Hades, and given him a second shot to become the husband to Diana, now Queen of the Amazons.

“But of course it is, you silly creature,” she chided, more than a little condescension and derision in her voice. “That silly girl pretending to be queen has no idea what is coming for her, and you will get your revenge on Arthur, and we will both get everything we ever wanted...” she smirked.

Triton had thought that Diana would remain Queen of the Amazons, and he would have access to her nearly unlimited, well trained, army, to wage war and squash rebellion in his kingdom, newly granted with the death of Arthur.

Circe, on the other hand, anticipated that, should Diana marry Triton, she expected the queen would abdicate her throne, leaving it to her younger sister, Donna. Donna was not the warrior that Diana was, and it would be easy enough for the purple haired sorceress to wrangle control from the foolish child.

It was all to go down so smoothly, the jealousy that fed Triton’s hate for Arthur was strong in the creature, no doubt in part due to the fact that Diana and Arthur made a beautiful couple, and would have beautiful children, as both, in appearance at least, were completely normal. Triton resembled a hideous fish creature; no discernible nose, why would he need one? He was a submarinian creature. His eyes were red, his mouth lined with sharp teeth. His skin was grey, the colour of a sky that was clouded over but with no rain yet in sight. There was no hair on his head or anywhere else on his body for that matter. He had flipper hands, with webbed fingers and feet to match; even Circe found him repulsive, all the more reason to lock Diana in an eternity with the beast.

“I can’t help but notice that Diana and Orin are closer than ever,” Triton said, watching the couple share a moment after he revived her.

“Patience, my dear,” she chuckled. “The hardest hits are the ones you never see coming,” she said, lounging on her divan. “The more they fall back in love, the more it’s going to hurt both of them when we break them apart.”

“I don’t care about hurting Diana,” he said, sounding almost a little protective of the Queen.

Oh how quaint, Circe thought to herself. The beast truly does love the little warrior queen. Oh this couldn’t get better if she had written the script herself! “But a broken heart will be much more... receptive to your advances,” she suggested. “Just trust me, okay Big Boy? This isn’t the first romance I’ve helped blossom just to rip apart... Trust me.”

“Is that how you got all of your... toys?” Triton said, looking around at the dozens of beautiful young men surrounding and decorating Circe’s chambers. There were easily a dozen of them.

“Like I said,” she grinned deviously, her purple lips pulling back to expose sharp, white teeth. “I’ve done this before...”


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Diana led them into the temple, sun still filtering in, hot and angry and red, through the large, open windows. It glinted off of the metal, the weaponry and armour that was displayed in cases. He recognized her wedding dress, still stained across the lap with her mother’s blood, as well as the darkly stained purple robe Hippolyta had been wearing when Artemis had assassinated her in an attempt to kill Diana, then blamed his ward, Garth. He hadn’t thought of the young boy in a long time; it was better that way. Unlike others who were lost to the war, Garth had been so young, so innocent. Merely a pawn in Orm and Pentisilla’s game.

Eventually, inevitably, his eyes found the helmet of his fallen Queen, next to a small plaque Diana had carved, clearly having taken her time to do something useful, he thought to himself with bitter sarcasm. He was busy defending his right to hold the title of King and she was up here, in the sun, in the warmth, still gifted by the Gods, and making monuments. Perhaps if she had been using her time better she would have tracked down this mysterious threat and destroyed whomever it was before they became a threat in the first place?

He seethed in bitter rage in the corner while Diana set about gathering what she needed. What she needed most of all were dry clothes. She looked over her shoulder at Orin; even when they were together she had always been shy and coy about being naked or exposed around him, about professing any kind of physical displays of affection. She was awkward and felt clumsy at it; his mistress was an expert, or at least she was in Diana’s eyes. Adept at turning Arthur’s attention with the twist of her hip, the crook of her lip. Diana couldn’t compete with that level of flirtation.

He appeared to be deeply enamoured and distracted by her small tribute to his wife.

Given that she was so shy, and yet unsure of whether he had ever viewed her sexually, Diana was torn but eventually closed her eyes and drew off her wet clothes, letting them fall to the ground.

The sound of the wet cloth hitting the marble alerted Arthur to what was going on, and despite himself and the hatred he possessed for Diana, he found his eyes wandering, peeking from the corner at her. He was, after all a man, and she was a woman, and they had once planned to spend the rest of his life together.

Her form was partially shaded by the light coming in from the window, but what he could see looked as if it were illuminated by Apollo himself. The rumour was Amazons had been blessed by Aphrodite with beauty inside and out, but as the child of the Goddess’ rival, her brother Ares, Diana possessed an incredible capacity for violence; something that at once made her less and more attractive to Arthur.

He hadn’t known the depth of her capacity, or her rumoured paternity, until the war began. Prior to that, he had known only the incredible beauty, physical and emotional, of her. She loved everyone, and if she were ever insecure she hid it well.

Right now, however, he was taking in a view he had never got to see; they had never consummated their relationship, as they both worked so hard to hold up the myth that it was merely a marriage of convenience, something built of out of a political necessity rather than a growing, living love. As such, there had been coy kisses, and Diana’s blushing as he held her hand, slipped am arm around her waist or brushed hair from her face. In retrospect, her coy circumspection drove him insane, but during their courting, he had found it charming. Cute, even. Her complete lack of knowledge, of awareness how she affected him, was a refreshing change from Mera, who was aware of every smirk, every twist of her brow, every pout, and had invested each movement with meaning and energy to achieve a purpose.

Her body was unscarred from the war; even if she had taken any vital hits, her constitution healed much faster than his; she would never have a disfiguring mark as he did thanks to her. Her body was as beautiful now as it was when they first met, perhaps a little fuller now through her hips and breasts, not that it was a bad thing. They were youths when they met, on the verge of adult hood; not only had the war hardened their hearts and minds, making them “adults” in a metaphysical sense, time had turned their bodies into those of adults.

Her hips narrowed at her waist, flaring out for her ribcage. Her skin was tight across her muscles, and Arthur had to consciously draw his eyes away from her. Biology was something even they couldn’t escape.

She had caught the turn of his head from the corner of her eye, just a flash of movement as he turned away from her. An unbidden, unwanted flush flared across her cheeks as she realized he had dared to take a peek at her as she changed. She let a private smile cross her lips as she pulled her battle armour up over her body, buckling the chest and shoulder plates in place before adopting her leg and forearm shields. Her hair was still wet, but she bound it back as well as she could into a braid to keep it away from her face.

“Are you done playing with your hair?” Arthur asked, a tone of derision in his voice, his hands on his hips as he turned to face her again, seeing as she was redressed.

“Yes,” she answered back coldly, stalking across the floor of her shrine and towards the steps. “Now, as for the plan. I’ve been thinking...”

Arthur cut her off, putting his hand up to silence her, seeming to not see her shocked, then angry, blue eyes. “Which is great, but let’s remember who has been fighting and who has been sitting, writing poetry,” he said. Clearly he had seen and read her tribute to Mera; that such a heartfelt action could be taken as if she were lazy, Diana fumed.

Her eyes went wide and her fists balled. “Your continued war doesn’t bode for your ability to plan, just your skills as a brawler,” she shot back. “Listen, I have a plan. I need you to trust me.” Her voice was earnest, honest, and her eyes softened, consciously letting go of the anger caused by his words.

“Why should I?”

“What on earth could you have to lose?” her voice asked delicately, sensitive to the fact that he did in fact have very little to lose by teaming up with her, but he also had little to gain.

Diana held her hand out for him, blue eyes imploring him to take her offering.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The two warriors, two leaders, had debated, discussed, yelled and argued until they had finally come to a consensus. It took a lot of convincing for both sides, but eventually Arthur turned over his trident to Diana, who in turn traded her battle ready armour for something more... Romantic.

They had washed the stains out of the dress she had worn on what should have been her wedding day. She was not entirely sure she felt comfortable wearing the gown, and the way Arthur was looking at her made even less certain.

“You’re... breath taking,” he said and for a minute Diana wasn’t sure if he remembered those words, the last words he had ever said to her as her fiancé.

She flushed, her cheeks taking on a deep red hue as she looked down, trying desperately to keep the smile from her lips. She brought up a hand, still shackled with her bracers, a constant reminder of the past enslavement of the Amazons, as well as a reminder of the kind of future that would lay ahead of her if she is unable to avoid a marriage to Triton.

He knew her secret, no doubt, she had figured, a result of the witch Circe. The purple haired sorceress had been a rival of her mother’s for Ares’ attention and love, several times being taking the title of consort, but ultimately, the God of War was won over by the war waging Queen of the Amazons. He knew to control the Queen he merely needed to bind her wrists, and hold the other end of the rope, bets were doubled if he was able to bind her with her own lasso.

“I,” Arthur stuttered for a moment, his blue eyes taking her in, from head to toe. Unlike the day of their would be wedding, her hair was loose, laying around her shoulders, the diadem of the Queen of the Amazons resting on her forehead. The lasso of truth, the one weapon she was never without unless completely bare, was wrapped around her waist.  “I was being honest,” he added, his voice taking on a slight tone of reproach as he felt that he was being mocked by her silence. “Use that if you think I am lying,” he suggested with a smirk, gesturing to the gold around her mid section.

Her cheeks flushed deeper still. “From someone who can breathe at the bottom of an ocean trench,” she said with a smirk, her blue eyes flicking up to look at his, the same coy smile she had given with the line when she delivered it on their wedding day flashing across her generous lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He smiled at her, reaching a hand out to brush her bare shoulder, brushing back some of her dark hair with the back of his fingers. Her skin was warm, soft and smooth against his calloused hands. It was a familiar gesture, though it had been a long time since he had done it, and Arthur couldn’t remember if he had ever used this particular move on Diana. From her shoulder, his fingers danced up along her trapezius muscle to her neck, under a wash of her dark hair.

Diana’s heart was beating rapidly as she became painfully aware of what Arthur was planning, and for the life of her she did not want to stop him. He was drawing himself closer to her, both fo their heads turning to the side as they prepared for a kiss, one that was years in the making.

She wondered if he still tasted like salt and sweat.

He wondered if she still tasted like pomegranates.

Their lips inched closer, and as they picked up each other’s scent, their pheromones, working to wash away the years between them. The war was a thousand years away, right now they were just a man, and a woman. Closer, closer still. She could feel his breath across her lips, could he feel her hunger?

Four eyes, eyes that had once held such hatred for the other, burnt with the passion of love and loathing, fluttered shut as lips met for the first time in an age.

At first it was a soft peck; two pairs of dry, soft lips testing the waters. Yes, they had kissed each other before, but it was so long ago that they were barely the same set of lips any more. He let her lean into the kiss first, allowing her control. So far as he knew, with no lovers after him, and none before, he had been her only romantic partner, which was suffice to say she had never had a lover in that sense.

Her lips warmed, his opened, meeting in the middle as her arms came up, warm and strong around his shoulders, hands hungrily crawling up his shoulders as he pulled her body tight to him, feeling the heat through his scale mail armour and the thin fabric of her dress. When they finally broke, eyes opening as the two lovers looked at each other, faces still quite close.

“I must say,” she said in a bare whisper, her eyes looking down at his chest, broadened as he developed, as age came and turned him from a youth into a man, and the war turned him from a man into a machine built for the perpetration of violence and death. “I prefer this to your... traditional robes.” She let a private smile cross her mouth, her eyes looking up at him, face tilted just a little down.

“What?” he chuckled, brushing the hair at the back of her head. “You didn’t like my man skirt?” A rare chuckle, once thought extinct, escaped his lips as he let the comment pass over him.

“These pants and your shirt are much more... fitting,” she smiled, giving him a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. “In more way than one,” she blushed, her shoulders shrinking up as she turned her head to the side, nudging a kiss to his cheek, then another on his ear.

“Well, I do think you look beautiful regardless of what you wear,” he said, turning to look at him. “Or don’t wear.”

She blushed deeply, remembering she had caught him taking a peek at her while she was changing out of her wet armour. At the time, she hadn’t known what to make of it. Part of her simply attributed it to her aunt having been right about the male gaze, and how it would turn to anything pretty without preference or exception; men were indiscriminate creatures, crass and uncultured.

“Perhaps we should... get back to the plan,” she hesitated, not knowing where to go with his comment about her naked form.

“Of course,” he said with a light cough, looking her over as he let her go, a space, a cold and open gap, opening up between them. He brushed her hair back away from her face, giving her one final kiss, gentle and soft between her eyebrows. “You look amazing,” he said, once more. “Triton will be blinded by your beauty,” he continued to charm her.

“Let’s hope he is that foolish,” she said, taking his hands and kissing his knuckles.

 


	13. Chapter 3

Chapter 13

“So they are working together?” Triton said, watching the lovers kiss, jealous of the tender motions she gave him. The soft kisses, the gentle brush of hair. Soon he would own her; it would be his thin, gray lips that would be pressing into her lush, red mouth, drinking in the sweetness that was Diana. He gritted his teeth with impatience, letting a low growl out from his throat.

“Oh hush now,” Circe chuckled, waving her hand in an overly dismissive way. “You worry far too much.”

The witch, eternally youthful and beautiful stood, walking gracefully to where one of her man toys stood. “See this young man here?” Triton nodded. “He was once engaged to one of the most beautiful princesses the Prussian empire ever had to offer; he would be in line to inherit the second most powerful empire of the time. He chose me.” Circe smiled, looking into the vacant eyes of her eternal slave, kept young by her magic and will alone. Should he disobey her, as if he had the ability, as if he had the free will to disobey, would instantly turn to dust he was so old.

“This one here,” she said, gliding over to another. “He’s younger, my newest and freshest face. If you were more inclined to be part of popular culture you’d know he recently aged out of a children’s talent agency. Unfortunately, if he decides to disobey, I’ll have to take care of him myself. He hasn’t been kept by my magic long enough. But I stole him away from a beautiful woman and the chance to grow into one of the most successful men in Hollywood.”

“But I’d never disobey you, Mistress,” he said, his voice barely dropped, still that of a youth, not quite of a boy, not quite of a man.

She laughed and petted him on the head like the loyal dog he was. “Of course you wouldn’t,” she said.  

“You’ve made your point,” Triton said, his voice still unimpressed. He was not pleased how Arthur and Diana were beginning to fall in love again. Their intimacy lit a jealous fire inside him. “But I still do not see how the two of them, being so intimate is necessary.”

“Oh my dear, darling foolish Triton,” she said with a sigh, walking over to him. Circe caressed his cheek, turning him to face her. She pressed a kiss to his thin, fishy lips. “I get it now... You want your Queen pure as the driven snow...” Her eyes flashed in a wicked manner as she looked at him. “Do not worry; she will be.”

They turned their eyes back to the mirror broadcasting the images of Arthur and Diana, having found each other’s arms, pressing warm, playful kisses to each other as they speak lovingly. Circe’s spell of forgiveness had worked, it seemed.

Enjoy the tenderness while it lasts, she thought to herself, bitterly, jealously, as she watched Arthur lovingly brush her hair, Diana tenderly pressing a kiss to his ear. You will have no such joy when Triton is your king...

"But, for now,” Circe worked her magic, not for any purpose but to ensure Triton was loyal to her game and their bargain. She did not need him deciding once he had  Diana to be a loving, caring husband; to treat her like a queen and the Goddess she rightfully was. She straddled his lap, settling herself down across his thighs. “We never did consummate our agreement, did we? And here I thought you would be only too grateful to me for breaking you out of your uncle’s prison?” Circe’s melodic tone took on a slightly mocking tone, feigning hurt as her large eyes implored Triton to obey her unspoken commands.

“No, I guess we did not,” he said, his thin lipped mouth pulling to the side in a vicious smirk, exposing his razor sharp teeth. As she settled in his lap, he could feel the heat of her body, his webbed hands find their way to the smooth, voluptuous curves of her hips, sliding up to her slip waist. He looked down at her full chest, then up into her hypnotic eyes. He knew that she was trying to use him, but the truth was he was using her just as much, and as such, he found it a useful partnership.

"Well, I think we should rectify this, do you not agree?” she cooed, seductively turning her head, her eyes half closed, inching towards his mouth.

“I think I can agree to that,” he chuckled, vicious teeth gnashing to get a taste of the sweet sorceress.  


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

She had given Arthur her sword, the Sword of Damocles, forged by Hephaestus himself in the great forges of the Gods; it was the weapon she had taken the life of Mera with, the weapon that she had turned on Arthur as well. If she had not been armed with such a powerful, divine weapon, his triton would have been able to defend against the weapon of the sea God. As some of her Furies had seen, a normal, mortal, weapon would quickly fail against the power of his.

He was also armed, if need be, with a battle axe and her shield. She wanted him to be protected; she knew that he was feeling uncomfortable having trusted her with his one true weapon. He looked awkward, holding the shield of the Amazon Queen, but he put a brave face on for the sake of the woman in front of him.

“It’s time,” she said with a sigh, gesturing with her eyes that he should fall back to her personal dwelling, the bedchamber that they should have shared. He nodded and walked back, turning only once to take a look over his shoulder at Diana.

She tried to remain calm, to retain her regal and cold nature. She nodded to him, trying not to smile; there was no reason to smile right now. Perhaps yesterday, when they had shared a rare moment of sweetness, was a fluke; it was just a matter of two people who, at one time a life time ago, had been engaged to be married, who had been brought back together with all of the old emotional baggage, most negative but some positive, remaining.

It was only natural, she thought to herself as she took in a deep breath, holding it for a count of five before slowly exhaling. There was nothing to be taken away from their kisses; they were just innocent and misguided kisses, remnants of a time that is better left in the past where it belonged.

Diana turned around; she was being foolish. They were over; the time for Diana and Arthur, the unification of two ancient cultures, had passed. They would never be able to recapture the spark they had when they were younger, when they were still innocent and there was no blood on either his or her hands. She had to shake her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts of Arthur from her mind. His kisses were intoxicating, still a mix of skill and tenderness that made her want to melt, that made her want to be a student once more.

She held his triton in her right hand, a nervous look on her face. Triton and her had not agreed on how she would contact him once she got the triton, but she looked out over the seas, taking a steadying breath before wading out into the water.

The triton’s handle extended, showing its true length at over six feet tall. She stood in the water, the waves reaching up to her knees, her dress pooling in the water around her as she waited. And waiting. And waited.

The sun was starting to set, getting low on the horizon as Diana remained waiting, with Arthur hidden in her bed chamber. Perhaps their plan had been seen through; if Triton was working with Circe there was the distinct possibility that she would have been able to help him see through their plan. There was also the option that Triton was taking the opportunity to have Arthur removed from Atlantis to solidify his control temporarily before returning with the triton.

Diana’s mind went through the possibilities, each one worse than the one that proceeded.

As the glowing orb of the sun reached the edge of the horizon, just about to slip under and transform day into night Diana saw a ripple in the water line.

About time, she thought bitterly to herself.

Triton was even faster in the water than Orin; closing the gap between the edge of the horizon and where Diana was standing. She braced herself for what was about to happen.

Arthur had told her, made her promise, she would not hand over the triton under any circumstances. If he got the triton it was game over for Arthur. On her side, she had made Arthur vow that he would guide Donna, her younger sister, in leading the Amazons and their army against Triton if their plan were to fail. Now, her head was spinning with the thoughts of the future, and the memories of the past, added to all the pressure of the here and now.

“Don’t you look simply… delicious,” Triton hissed, his eyes devouring Diana’s form, the way her dress clung to her hips and breasts, the things that Arthur may have noticed in another life time, but had never overtly commented on, other than to say she was beautiful, or breath taking. “Ah, and you got the weapon…” he sneered, feigning ignorance as to what was going on. Circe was going to work her magic on the boy who thought he could reign in Triton’s world, he simply had to trust her, not an easy task in and of itself, but when such a prize was set before him, Diana, Queen of the Amazons, fabled daughter of his uncle, the God of War himself. Oh, with her and her army at his side, there would be no stopping him.

“Thank you, Triton,” she said, trying to keep a gag of disgust, creeping up her throat mixed with bile, from coming out. He smelled horrible; Diana had first thought it was just his breath, but she was coming to realize it was him, his body, when out of the water. It turned her stomach, but she steeled herself against the physical reaction. Her mother had always taught her that it was the charge of the Royal Family to suffer for their people; the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

“And what did you have to do to get that trinket?” he smirked, leering at her like a piece of meat. Triton enjoyed seeing her like this, dolled up for the purpose of impressing, if not distracting, him.

Circe had told him Arthur was hiding in the bedchamber, but had been directed to not worry about him. His original idea of having Diana murder her former love, solidifying her as _his_ was quickly being supplanted by Circe’s desire to have a new toy. This annoyed Triton, but ultimately, as long as he got what he really wanted, the rights to reign as King of whatever remained of Atlantis, and Diana as his Queen, he would be satisfied.

“What do you mean?” She turned her body away from him, the triton returning to its more compact size as she held it behind her back, out of his reach.

“Well,” he stalked forwards, his legs splashing water up the front of her thin, white gown, as he went, making for several spots of translucence to show through. “I did not think he would trust you so much as to just give over his weapon…” Triton eyed her, grabbing her free hand and pulling her forward. “Did you seduce him? Did you kill him? Tell me, my Queen, what was the cost you paid to betray the man you once loved?”

She burned inside with his words. How dare he… How dare he comment on her history with Arthur? Her eyes narrowed and hardened for a flash before she consciously caught herself, remembering she had to play the game with Triton, otherwise she would risk losing more than simply her freedom.  This was not about romance, this was not about Arthur, or her, it was about her people; Diana had to comply to save Themyscira from being sunken, again, this time with no way for her Amazons to escape, not to mention the thousands of refugees that the island had taken in, in part to absolve its guilt for the atrocities perpetrated by her aunt and to atone for the war itself.

“I merely asked,” she whispered, forcing her eyes to go soft, the way she had seen Mera do several times when Diana and Arthur were trying to discuss politics and the redheaded mistress felt attention should be on her. “And he complied…” She left out the promise of letting Arthur kill him a second time, or the promise of Diana forever leaving him to brood in silence without contact.

“Oh, I’m sure he did,” Triton said, reaching for her other hand, the one that held the trident. “For who could resist your charms, little Queen.”

Diana was surprised by his strength, but able to temporarily resist, twisting her shoulders and hips in a manner that kept the hand holding the trident away from him. “I am sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with a soft smile.

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he said with a grin, pulling her towards him, this time by force. Diana could brace her legs all she wanted, but the damp sand grooved and he was able to drag her through to him. “And if not, I’m sure I can teach you...”


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Arthur had fallen back to Diana’s bed chamber, what should have been their bed chamber. The bed was large enough for both of them, and more he thought deviously. Mera had brought up the idea that maybe, as an Amazon, the reason why she and Arthur hadn’t bonded was because she had no interest in men. He didn’t have the heart to tell his mistress that his fiancée had confessed to falling in love with him just hours before.

The bed was still made, perfect and precise, just as he would have expected from the military woman. It was simple, not adorned with much finery, but classic, with obvious Greco-Roman influences. “Well what did you really expect,” he muttered to himself, having the obvious thought.

“Oh, I’m sure the old girl has some surprises left in her closet...” a very familiar voice called from behind a silk screen painted with a scene from Amazon legend, the exodus of the Amazons of Bana-Mighall. “Maybe we should open them up, and see what secrets they hold, my love...” the melodic voice trailed off.

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat; not only was he hearing the voice of an angel, but he was assaulted by the scent of her perfume.

The figure stepped out and exposed the source. She looked as beautiful and vibrant as the last time he had seen her, red hair falling down to her waist in long, wavy cascades, in sharp contrast to the green scale mail armour that covered her body, clinging to her seductive curves. She wore her crown, the crown of the Queen of Atlantis.

“Mera...” He was breathless, speechless. Mera was dead; he had seen her body. Diana had returned her lifeless form, without her head, after she had killed her. She was dead. They had a funeral for her, burying the body as they would any Queen. “But you’re...”

“Dead?” the woman spoke, her hips and shoulders twisting just as his wife had done, an alluring twitch of her body that made his defenses melt. Her right hand slid up her thigh, over the swell of her hip, pushed out to the side as she unweighted her opposite leg. “Well, I’m afraid to say that reports of my death have been greatly over estimated.” She let out a soft coo of a laugh. “We were right, my love. Your wild Amazon prefers the company of women. She has kept me here as a prisoner,” as if to show proof, “Mera” held out her wrists, silver shackles, exact replicas of Diana’s, wrapped around her forearms. “As her slave... Perhaps you two really did have something in common...” She let out a soft giggle, the private sounds she had shared with him when they were making intimate jokes.

Something felt wrong, but Arthur was having a hard time resisting the allure of the woman he had once loved so deeply. He had yearned for her, and the idea that she really was alive, and in front of him, was intoxicating. “But... Your body?”

“It was a fake; one of the Amazons that I felled infiltrating the Island,” she said with a shrug. “I hate it here; I want to come home, darling,” she said, throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms desperately around his neck. She kissed him hard, and deep; she tasted like Mera, kissed him like Mera, but hungrier, as if starved for real love. Her hands gripped the sides of his face before running through his hair.

He let out a lustful sigh as he pulled away, his hands finding the narrow spot of her waist, resting just above the swell of her hips, her hair just brushing the back of his hands. His right rose up and pushed back a lock of hair, exposing her beautiful green eyes, with a sigh. 

“You have to do what you were planning on, you have to go through with it and kill Diana!” she begged, pressing kisses to his lips softly. “She’ll never let me leave as long as she is alive. Arthur please...” her voice cracked as she sniffled.

“I...” something felt wrong; something deep within Arthur told her that something was wrong; this wasn’t Mera, but... she sounded and looked so much like the real thing. She even felt and tasted like Mera...

“Please, my love,” she mewed, twirling a finger through his hair to massage his earlobe as she had done a hundred times; every time she wanted something and Arthur was unwilling to bend to her will. It undid him every time. Knowing that secret, he decided it must be her. “Avenge my years of servitude... I’m your Queen, your one true queen, and she’s keeping me as nothing but a sex slave.” She pouted, holding his cheeks, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

She pulled back. “Where is your triton?” she asked, her red eyebrows furrowing with an expression of concern. “You didn’t give it to Diana did you?” Her eyes went wide with terror.

“She’s going to run off with Triton and give your kingdom, our kingdom, to him!” her voice cracked as tears started to form in her eyes. “Look!” She pointed behind him.

He could barely see through the gauze like curtains that fluttered, protecting her inner most sanctum from the outside world, forcing him to move forward to brush it aside. Arthur drew a sharp breath, completely unprepared for what he was about to see.

Diana was completely embraced by Triton, his rival and the man threatening to challenge for the Kingship as well as the right to be called Champion of Poseidon. Diana had come to him, begging for help, claiming that Triton was blackmailing her into a marriage she wanted no part of, but from the look of their passion infused kiss, her body pressed tightly to his, his hands roughly claiming her, in the dress she had worn to their wedding no less, it was all part of a lie.

They had just shared a romantic moment, where he thought they had reconnected, rekindled a love that had died in its infancy, but now he was faced with the reality that he was being played, again, and that Diana, far from being a fellow pawn, was manipulating him. Rage flew through, boiling his blood as he clenched his fists at his side, gripping the handle of the sword she had given him until his knuckles went white.

“She’s an evil woman, my Love,” the voice of “Mera” spoke, coming up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her right hand creeping up to rub his chest. “You can stop her though, and Triton, before they get their ways, before they steal your kingdom and enslave you, just as she enslaved me…” her voice petered out as she began to kiss the back of his neck.

“Oh how I missed you…” her voice soft, her left hand, formerly staying at his waist, slid downward, over his hip bone towards his groin.

Something was not right… Something about the whole situation felt wrong; Mera was dead! He had seen her body, he had held her headless corpse. She was dead. Diana hated Triton with a passion; he was a despot, more than either Arthur or Diana had been during the war, in times of peace. He longed for war, while both Arthur and Diana, publically, had campaigned for peace. Why would she so boldly let him possess her like that, knowing that she would be visible to him, unless…

“Something is not right,” Arthur finally spoke aloud the words he had been thinking, turning within the grip of “Mera.” “Diana might have never loved me, but she certainly has no desire for that monster!” He pushed “Mera” back, readying the sword the Amazon had given him. “And even were she a lesbian, her ideals would never allow her to enslave a woman for sexual servitude, even a sworn enemy’s wife!”

He slashed at the vision in front of him, even though it broke his heart that he was attacking the memory of his wife, he knew it was not here. She was dead; he had to keep reminding himself of the fact, but she was indeed dead. Diana had built a shrine to her, a beautiful one that he had negated, in her temple.

The image of Mera, red haired, golden crown and green scale body suit, faded away but the Amazon shackles remained. Replacing the image of his once beloved, dearly departed, wife was that of a purple haired siren. She was almost the same height as Mera had been, but curvier; her breasts barely contained by a silver threaded corset, her hips wrapped in a luxurious purple fabric, seemingly light and endless in its layers. Her hair was purple as well, matching her eyes and the colour of her lips, pulled into a wicked grin as she crooked a finger.

“I may not be Mera, but you will be mine Arthur, Champion of Poseidon,” she cackled. She raised her right hand, her long purple nails illuminated now only by the flickering lights of an oil lantern. “Here are your choices, my dear, pretty little boy,” she said, her voice dripping with derision and lust. “One, you come with me willingly, we leave your little ex-girlfriend to Triton and you get to live forever, happily ever after with me,” she smiled, charmingly, irresistibly. “Or you try to stand your ground, I destroy you, Triton takes everything that ever was yours and ever will be, including your kingdom and Diana’s purity and no one will ever know of the great sacrifice you performed.”

She was infuriating! Even more so than Diana. He ground his teeth and was ready to strike when the world around him lit up. In the distance he could hear Diana scream; he was right, she was not willingly participating in their scheme. Diana! He thought, desperately. He had judged her harshly, been far too willing to see her flaws, even when she had been honest, open with him about her fears and what she believed was going on.

The sword clattered to the floor, along with the shield and battle axe. Flopping in the midst of the weaponry was a small, gold and green fish where Arthur had been. Circe’s most powerful, and useful, trick was to transform people into animals. Not only was it useful, it was quite enjoyable.

“Now now, little king,” she cooed to him, taking a goblet of water from Diana’s dresser and carefully depositing him in it. “It won’t be permanent right off the bat. That little Queen of yours will have five days to rescue you, then you’re mine forever, and I’ll turn you back into a man, all the man you used to be but without that pesky independence or devotion to Diana and your kingdom, and we can spend eternity getting to know each other…”

A portal opened up, swirling purple and red, flecked with gold. Holding the goblet in one hand, she crouched to pick up Diana’s sword. “Can’t leave anything obvious for the Queen to find, now can we?” she giggled, speaking to the little fish in the glass. She wanted Diana to think that Arthur had gone willingly, that he had abandoned her for Circe’s company, and for that, she would have to take the weapons and shield she had given Arthur, and leave something that made it seem like they had eloped.

After a half moment of thought Circe laughed, oh yes she had a plan. She had placed the sabre on her hip, holding the make shift fishbowl in her hand, she cast a spell. Instantly, the orderly bed chamber of Diana, Queen of the Amazons, was turned into a mess, the obvious impression that a night of passion had taken place. That Arthur had ravaged Circe willingly, and had run off with the witch, while nothing could be further from the truth. The bed covers lay torn asunder, the sheets ripped off and thrown haphazardly. The pillows were dishevelled, and the scent of sex hung in the air.

Satisfied that her ruse would be believed by Diana, who already believed that Arthur had never truly loved her, and that he would always prefer Mera over her, Circe let out another laugh, anxious to see the reaction of the Queen.

“Let’s introduce you to your little friends, little fishy…” she cooed to the golden barb in the cup.

“Oh right,” she paused, turning to look back where Diana was pushing away from Triton. “I forgot about you for a moment.” She laughed, casting her hand up, casting another spell, this time over Diana, the purpose of which was to make the young woman dazed, confused and docile for the time being, lest she get the best of Triton too early in the game. There would be no fun in that.

But, alas, time to get back to her temple; she was getting weary, straining herself by casting so many spells simultaneously. And besides, she had a new toy to play with. She smiled over Arthur in his cup. “Pretty, pretty fishy,” she cooed, stepping through her portal.

If fish looks could kill, Arthur would certainly be sending daggers through to the witch. Oh how he loathed Circe right now,  not only for the transformation and imprisonment in the body of a fish but for the pain she was intentionally inflicting upon Diana. He was starting to come around, and remember she was not the cold hearted warrior whom he had battled during the war, but as always, she led with her heart on her sleeve, even if her sword was in her hand.

Diana, he thought. I’m so sorry…


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

She had been fighting, but getting nowhere with her resistance. The underwater sand refused to hold her feet and rather than keep steady, she was dragged through the soft material. The more she fought, the more Triton laughed.

“You fight the one thing that will bring ever lasting peace,” he laughed. “You truly are your father’s daughter, aren’t you, my little Amazon…” He had finally dragged her close enough that he could reach out and grab her with his other arm, forcing her body to his. He pressed his mouth to hers, possessing her and caressing her body, his hand sliding down from her lower back to her backside, roughly gripping it.

Wedging her hands up in between their bodies, she managed to force herself back, tumbling into the surf and losing the trident as she went. Diana’s eyes widened as she dove for the weapon, Triton getting to it first with a triumphant laugh. There was no hesitation in his movements; first he brought the round, curved edge of the triton across, cracking Diana in the jaw. Her body arched backwards, swinging so she was no longer on her hands and knees, but rather on her backside. Her wide eyes were stunned, and she didn’t even have a moment to react to the first attack when he aimed the triton directly at her and fired at the unarmed, ill equipped Amazon, knocking her further backwards.

She landed further up the beach, temporarily stunned by the strength of the blast, realizing now Arthur must have been holding back on the occasions that the two fought head to head. Foggy as her head was, she was unprepared when he stalked past her, grapping her hair as he went, dragging the half unconscious woman towards her residence.

Her mind was cloudy; as much as she tried to focus, to get her hands to grab at his wrists or to get her feet up under her, or even to fly, she couldn’t. Even her voice seemed to leave her as she was dragged across the sand. She knew that while Triton was strong, and the trident was a powerful weapon, that she should not have been so subdued, there must be powerful magic afoot for her to be so... submissive.

“You have some powerful enemies, beautiful,” he said, dragging her up the stairs of her temple like residence. “What a beautiful palace we have, my darling,” he cooed, pulling her up to her feet, putting his free arm around his unwilling lover’s waist, pulling her tight to him without option of escape. “But I would have thought you a better house keeper, why it looks like your little lover and you have already explored the territory that I was promised would be pure...” The rage in his voice vibrated through her as he reefed the lasso from her waist and bound her wrists, tossing her to the dishevelled bed.

She barely had time to look around, to see her chamber so very unlike the way it had been left. Her eyes were wide; what in the name of Hera had Arthur done here, and with whom?

Her answer came as she landed on the bed, the bed her and Arthur should have shared, where he should have been the one to first embrace her as a man embraces a woman, where she smelt the perfume of the sorceress Circe, the one she had first thought of when she found Triton raised from the depths of Lord Hades’ realm.

She was stunned as what had transpired had set in on her. She was innocent, or as Triton had put it “pure,” still. She knew Arthur was no virgin; he hadn’t been when they first met. Mera was his lover, and his wife; she knew they had made love on several occasions, and while Diana was jealous of the intimacy, she had never considered it a betrayal, but Circe...

She didn’t have time to focus on her hurt; Triton was on top of her and all too willing to take advantage of her distractions, tearing at her gown. The trident was left at her side, abandoned as Triton’s hands found better ways to busy themselves, disrobing the prone queen trapped under his weight.

The more she struggled to push him away, the more he laughed, bringing his hand down across her face. A trickle of blood cracked her lip, her head turning to the side. “That witch said you’d be mine and I intend to claim my prize,” he said, lust deep in his voice as she spotted the abandoned trident.

She stopped fighting, her mind finding some clarity and clinging to it as best she could. Slowly she let her hand move, closer, inching closer and closer to the handle of the weapon. It had reverted to its shorter version, with no true hand to hold it. Even Triton’s short grip on the weapon had tarnished the once shining gold handle.

His hands split her knees, pulling and tearing her gown up from her ankles, splitting it up to her thighs, exposing her legs and licking his lips. His hands were rough as they ran up and down her thighs, massaging her muscles roughly.

Diana, for her part, felt entirely immobilized; unable to will her limbs to obey her mental commands. She could only half focus on the paranoia and the terror of what was about to happen, that she should suffer the same fate her mother had, at the hands of a God no less, but of much lower importance and of little use than her mother’s attacker. Her stomach turned when her mind rested on the relationship between her mother, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, and Ares, the God of War and Chaos. What had started out as an entirely non-consensual event begot two children for the queen, a son to act as heir to his father, and a daughter to be the heir to the Amazon throne.

It was different, though, a little voice in the back of her head challenged. Hippolyta loved Ares, but she was bound by the Amazon code to deny the God of War to keep favour with his sisters, Aphrodite, Athena, Artemis and Hestia. This was nowhere near like what had transpired, she told herself over and over, pushing the foggy thoughts away and wishing her hand would move.

The trident was right there, she could see it when she opened her eyes. She need only to grab it. If only her body would respond!

“Oh my,” he grinned, running a hand up the smoothness of her thigh, thumb pressing into the muscle. “You certainly do look delicious...”

A final tug of his other hand ripped the skirt clean to her hip, giving him full view and unimpeded access to her most intimate of places. A hot pink tongue snaked out from his thin lips, licking them with a lusty desire that made Diana want to scream, but she found no voice in her throat. Something was wrong here.

He must have finally noticed the painful expression on her face, fear wrought with confusion. “Oh, my pretty little queen,” he whispered to her, almost tenderly, bringing his hand to her cheek. “Hush now,” he pressed his fishy lips to hers, claiming her mouth with a slithering tongue forcing its way past her lips and teeth.

“Don’t be afraid...” he whispered as he broke the kiss, pressing a tender kiss to her ear. “I am not Arthur; I am the true champion of the oceans. I will not hurt you as he did. I will never ask you to reign at my side but keep you at an arm’s reach from my heart. Diana, I love you.”

His words, while some might find them consolatory, Diana simply found them chilling. He spoke of love, but expressed himself in acts of dominance and possession of her body.

“Your room, it was Arthur and Circe who did this,” he gestured to the torn bed sheets beneath her, to the air, where the scent of sex still hung heavily in the humid night. “I love you,” he said once again, but the words sounded more like threats than confessions of adoration. “I will make you love me,” he finally admitted.

While he continued to talk, Diana had worked on getting her body to comply to her desire for movement, finally inching her hand almost close enough to grab the trident.

He pulled back, readying himself for his conquest when he stopped, noticing the shimmer in the blue eyes before him. “You are ready then, my dearest,” he cooed to the woman underneath him, kneeling up on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wider and readying himself for penetration.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

“Home sweet home,” Circe sung, her hips twisting from side to side as she sauntered through her temple, slaves taking Diana’s shield and weapons and storing them away in her trophy hall along with so many other “gifts” from her conquests. Her swagger filled steps carried her to the central room of her temple, a combination luxurious entertaining and bedchamber area, filled with all kinds of debaucherous delights.

She took her spot upon her central dais, where instead of a throne sat a large divan for the lounging of the queen of the castle in excessive comfort.

Circe summoned her mirror to let her view what was going on in Diana’s bedchamber, laughing with delight as the mirror showed a close up of Diana’s pain filled expression of disgust at the advances of Triton. “Oh good, we didn’t miss the good part,” she chuckled down at Arthur as he swam in his cup. She was almost certain the little fish was giving her cut eye.

“You can’t really see well in there, now can you, my little pet?” she beckoned for two of her other man toys to come forward with a snap of her fingers. “Now, I don’t normally do this, but I want you to watch your little Queen get stripped of the last shred of dignity she has...” Circe spoke, casting a reversal spell over the goblet, returning Arthur to his human form.

Upon returning to his natural state, Arthur’s first instinct is to attack Circe, but with her two servants there he was immediately intercepted, arms locked behind his back as his knees were knocked out from under him. As strong as Arthur was, as he was no mere human when it came to strength, possessing the strength and durability of an Atlantian, Circe’s henchmen were stronger, locking his arms behind his back with a sharp, stabbing pain burning through his shoulders.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she said with a laugh. “Not only is your little queen going to be defiled by Triton, then live the rest of her life as his perpetual slave, she’s going to go into that bondage thinking your last act as her partner was to betray her and make love with me, in the very bed she has longed to share with you...” She broke off into peals of laughter and the rage boiled to the surface.

“You witch!” he hissed.

“You say that as if it were an insult,” she cooed, coming around to stroke his cheek. “Besides, it’s not like you actually loved her, did you?” she teased him, knowing full well that while Arthur’s feelings for Diana were complex, and perhaps he had never thought of her in the same manner he had Mera, that she was not his true love, he cared deeply for her, he always had, even during the most bitter parts of the war, if he was given the chance to turn back the tides of conflict, to undo everything, and save both his own soul and Diana’s, he would have in a heartbeat.

He wrenched his head away from her, trying to twist away from the grip of her man slaves, but it was useless; strong as he was, they were stronger, especially with two of them.

“Foolish man,” Circe chided. “Just watch as your beautiful Diana is devoured by your hated rival, then you’ll see how much you really meant to her.” The purple haired sorceress sauntered around him and took her spot on the dais, lounging comfortably and settling in to watch the show as a slave brought wine and food.

Violent blue eyes burned up at the purple haired sorceress, his normally full mouth pulling into a tight, thin line. “You evil whore,” he spat, eyes on fire.

Circe merely laughed as she crossed in front of him. “Oh, you’re so much better than me,” she rolled her eyes, gripping his hair tightly, her nails digging into his scalp as she stretched the hairs’ grip on his scalp. “You haven’t even seen the main show yet,” she laughed, moving so he could view the events unfolding in Diana’s bed chamber, on the bed he should have taken her to if not for the war between their countries. She laughed, directing a third slave to hold his head in place so he could not look away.

“Diana!” he shouted, trying to lunge forward. Fueled by anger and hate he succeeded in gaining an inch on his restraints, but not enough to free himself.

He saw the trident’s blast connect with her square in the chest, throwing her body limply back into the sand and surf, before the rounded edge came crashing down against her head. He physically winced; the force which Triton was using on her seemed excessive, even to Arthur. Unbidden, the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown, his brow furrowing. He was to watch the rape of his … what would he call Diana? Former love? But had she ever loved him? Really loved him? He remembered her soft, shy admittance of love, a blush, a sigh and a whisper in the night, but had she known what love was then? Certainly now there were emotions between them, things left unsaid after years of mutual abuse and aggression, but in the miasma of emotions, was there really anything left that could resemble love?

“Oh, don’t you worry, she’s not going to be thinking much about you right now, except how you betrayed her with her sworn enemy in the marital bed you should have shared with her,”  Circe laughed, letting the mirror pull out to expose the room, torn asunder by what Diana would assume was the passions of the two. “Worry not my little fishy lover, you will get your chance to please me for real soon enough, but I could not trust that you would obey so soon. After all you were able to see through the spell I cast and my disguise as Mera…” Her voice sounded almost hurt as she stroked his hair, walking behind him and up to her divan.

“Bring him to me,” she said, crooking her finger to her pets, having Arthur dragged like a piece of meat up the steps to her feet, where she continued to stroke his hair, correcting the angle of his head every time he tried to look away.

He did not want to watch; he didn’t want to bear witness to Diana’s submission and humiliation at the hands of his rival. Why she did not attack back was a question he could only answer by suggesting some part played by Circe. If she could cast a spell that hypnotized him so to her charms and one that disguised her as Mera, Arthur was confident that she would be able to subvert even the will of Diana.

“Oh you will watch, my dear,” she cooed to him, stroking his hair, grabbing a handful of the still short cropped blonde locks, wrenching his face to the mirror, simultaneously calling for the mirror to be brought closer. “Watch your flower get plucked from the ground and have her purity taken by a man you both despise...” Circe hissed.

She wasn’t sure what she enjoyed more, the humiliation of forcing Diana to submit to the dark desires of Triton, or the exercising of control over Arthur, forcing him to watch. The pain reflecting in his eyes let the sorceress know that her spell had worked its charm; he had forgiven Diana her sins against him and had seen in her now the same charming traits he had adored when they were in their youth.

“Oh, don’t worry little king,” she cooed, scratching behind his ears as if he were a dog. “You’ll get your chance to prove your loyalty to me.”

His mouth turned down as Triton spoke and he heard the words as clear as if he were in the room, listening to Triton give Diana details of a false plot between him and Circe, the lie that he had taken Circe in her bed, which he kept referring to falsely as “their” bed. They had never slept together, even during their time courting.

“You don’t like his lies?” she called to him, eliciting a sharp look from her prisoner. “Oh, you can’t be remembering when you lied to her, can you? When you told her you loved her, when you said you would leave Mera if only she’d ask, knowing she never would ask you to give up the person you loved more than anything?” She taunted him, but he did not react. This bored Circe, causing her to smack him in the back of the head, more of a swat, really, with her finger tips.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

“Oh yes,” she said with a smirk, one hand slipping up around his shoulders, pulling him close to help disguise her other movements

“Oh... yes,” he cooed. “I knew you’d see my point, my Queen,” he said, trying to kiss her lips again, finding instead he was presented with her cheek. Never the less, he was bolstered by her actions.

Her fingers slipped under the handle of the trident, slowly curling her fingers around the cool metal staff, twisting her wrist. She only had one chance to get this right; it seemed something was competing with her ability to fight back, and with that in mind she had to work fast.

Her hand gripped the trident, twisting her arm with a well practiced move she sat up, plunging the weapon deep into her attacker’s chest. She gripped it tightly and twisted her wrist, gouging a deep wound, pushing straight through, deep through his lungs and heart, ripping flesh and breaking bone. Standing up, the weapon was forced deeper into his body, until the tines caught on his ribcage.

“Diana!” he groaned, reaching out for her, blood dripping down the handle, over her fingers, and onto her stomach, soaking into her once pristine white gown. “But... I loved you...” his voice cracked as he tried to reach for her again, sinking to his knees, clinging to her torn skirt like a child. “Please, give me your heart? I only wanted to be your King, to reign at your side. I loved you,” he finished with the words he opened with.

“No you didn’t,” she muttered, her eyes filled with disdain and disgust as she twisted the trident backwards, pulling it out, bracing the weight of the dying god against her knees before kicking him away. “There are only two men who have ever loved me; you are not one of them.”

She looked at the body in front of her, the lights dying in his eyes. There was a pang of guilt in her heart; she had a desperate love for all life, even Triton. In this instance, he was a pawn in the games of a wicked witch who saw to hurt Diana, and used the poor man’s lust for her, and desire for revenge on Arthur, as fuel for her fire. He was merely a pawn in this game, with no more agency than she had.

“Father Poseidon,” she whispered, kneeling down at the fallen God’s side, feeling the heaviness that came with the presence of a God. “Your son’s death...”

“Silence Child of Hippolyta!” he started, and Diana was instantly glad that he refrained from calling her Daughter of Ares. “I saw what happened. You defended yourself against my Son with the weapon of my Champion.” She simply nodded as he spoke.

Diana knelt, muted by the presence of Poseidon, assuming he came to claim the body of his Son to be returned to Lord Hades’ realm as well as the weapon of his abdicated champion, Arthur, who seemed to have run off with the witch.

“He was being used. No one makes fools of the Gods, not even Circe. You are the child of Ares, the heir of the Amazons, no friend of mine as you are the Champions of Aphrodite...” Diana did not like where this was going, lowering her head, raising the trident braced across both hands. “Oh get over yourself,” he said with a flick of his hand. “Arthur is the rightful barer of that weapon; you must return it to him. Circe has taken your weapons, those gifted to you by your own patrons, leaving you carelessly without a weapon. How do you plan to storm the gates of Circe’s temple without proper armaments?”

Diana was stunned; she had no reply to his comments.

“Exactly what I thought,” he said with a nod. “Rise up, child, you need my help and I need yours. You may not be a worshiper, but you are not an enemy, and we have a common enemy we should focus our attentions on.”

“Circe,” she said, rising, standing with the trident at her side, the end resting on the blood stained ground of her bed chamber.

Poseidon nodded, reaching out and touching Diana on her forehead. “You are not a Champion of Poseidon, but you are a Champion of Olympus. For the time, you can wield the weapon of my champion as if you were.”

“Thank you, Lord Poseidon,” she whispered, inclining her head but keeping her blue eyes on him.

“Bring back Orin,” he said with a cold tone. “That man has much to atone for; the war may have stopped on the surface, but he has been ineffectual in stopping it from destroying my realm.” There was anger in the God’s voice, anger that worried Diana, who felt compelled to stand up for the absent Arthur.

“But, my Lord,” she started, taking a half step forward.

“But nothing!” he said, the force in his voice enough to make her eyes go wide. “He has all of the power of a Champion of Poseidon; he could stop the war if only he would get over his grief and broken heart. He has allowed his own heart and hurt make him ineffectual as a leader, and for that he is no longer worthy of being my Champion, nor is he worthy of being the King of Atlantis. Without my gifts, he will be unable to defend his territory. He will die, and I will be rid of him and my useless son.”

And with that, the God was gone. Diana blinked, taking a deep breath, twisting the trident in her hand. She knew it couldn’t have been just Triton, that he had to have a partner, but she had never guessed that he had no more agency than she or Arthur had. Regardless, her mission was now clear. She had to avenge the sea god, reclaim Arthur, then return the trident to the God, leaving Arthur defenceless against all that would be coming to challenge him, no doubt spurned on by a public declaration of his new found weakness.

Blood was still dripping down from the head of the trident, coating her hand in slick, red, staining it to match the front of her torn chiton. The scene around her still bothered the Queen, but she was becoming more and more certain that it was a set up, especially since Triton felt compelled to tell her about it, to explain the whole thing to her, ensuring she got it, just in case she missed it.

“Arthur, I’m coming,” she whispered, her free hand tearing off the remnants of her gown, leaving it to fall to the floor. There was no reason to keep the relic anyways; it was supposed to be her wedding gown for her marriage to Arthur, it would never need to be used again. She would not be wearing it for Arthur, or for anyone else, ever again.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

“No, no, no!” Circe screamed, jumping to her feet as the body of Triton fell, sending plates of skewered meat, sweet fruits and wine clattering and splashing to the floor. Without bidding, all but the two slaves holding Arthur rushed forward to clean up the mess caused by their mistress’ temper tantrum. “No, I broke her will; I cast a spell to break her will. This should never have happened!” Her voice was getting higher and higher as she became more worked up.

Arthur merely smirked; the corners of his mouth that had been so pulled down by the idea of Diana’s rape at the hands of his rival were now perked in the ends, a smug smirk signifying that he was more than satisfied with how his ex-fiancée had performed. “She doesn’t go down that easily, witch,”  
 he said with a bark of laughter. He should know, he thought to himself; the Atlantian forces had sent two official assassination attempts after the Queen, plus the failed attempt by Mera, and he had gone up against her himself, several times under water, in his own element no less, and every attempt had failed. Miserably.

”Oh shut up you,” she said with a dismissive slap across the face.

Circe was a demi God, as strong as Arthur almost, not quite as physically strong or durable as an Amazon, but of the same line, and her attack was enough to put Arthur down onto his stomach, the slaves letting him go only to pick him up and resume restraining him.

“Take him away, I don’t even want to look at him; I’m sick of him!” she shouted, waiving her hand over in Arthur’s general direction.

The two young men grunted with effort as they dragged a struggling Arthur to his feet. As much as he fought back, it seemed that each man was as strong as he was by himself, making breaking their grip a near impossible task. His feet skidded down the steps that had lead up to her dais and just as they were nearing the entrance to her main chamber she shouted for them to halt.

“Stop! Where are you going with him!?” she demanded, her hands on her curvy, purple gilded hips. “I need him! He’s going to be the key to my plan to destroy Diana…” She cooed as she stepped down to the main floor, her heels clicking on the shiny marble as she went.

Arthur was having trouble keeping his eyes off her; the way her hips moved was hypnotic, and that was the point. While she stalked towards him like a hunter to her prey, Circe was whispering a love spell, something that would put him, all be it temporarily, completely under her spell. He was conscious of a hand pulling his head back to stare into her eyes, but at that point it was as if he was living outside his body, like his mind was replaced and he was merely watching a movie; he could see, hear, feel and smell everything around him, he was even confident he could taste them if given an option, but he was not in control of his reactions.

Circe continued to come forward, sliding an arm around his shoulder, drawing his face towards hers. Yeah, he could taste.

He was surprised with how good the witch tasted, the intoxicating wine of her lips seemed to flood his mouth, drowning and dulling his senses further. Within a few seconds of her kiss, the slaves released his arms and he had no desire to run away, or if he did it was so muted that he couldn’t respond. All he wanted was more of her…

His hands found her slim waist, one moving up her back, tickled by her long, luscious violet hair, the other roughly groping her backside, driving her hips against his, wanting, craving female companionship in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a youth in bloom. What was coming over him? Was this all some spell? But the desire, it felt so real, so organic, and had only kicked in once he had gotten a taste of the witch’s heroine kisses.

Her body pressed into his and he felt the heat, and her desire, brushing up against his own. How long had it been since Mera died? Three? Four years? And Diana, that stolen, chaste kiss he had not desired in the first place, accepting only as a token of the past, and a way to remove her from his future, that was months ago, a torturous time.

Circe was awakening a hunger deep within Arthur, and he was helpless to resist. He was, after all, only a man, with needs, and desires, that could not simply be fulfilled by violence and death, as much as he might wish that to be true.

She was the first one to break the kiss, being forced to pull further back than she had anticipated due to an over eager King’s desire to keep the passion. “Hush now,” she cooed to him, depositing a cute, chaste kiss, one that would be reminiscent, purposely, of Diana. “I’ll give you everything you desire; peace in your kingdom, the power to restore Atlantis to its former glory, and a powerful, beautiful queen at your side.”

“I don’t need a queen,” he protested, clearly Circe’s hold wasn’t finalized yet. His words were Arthur, though his body’s reaction was exactly what she needed, feeling the press of something hard against the flat of her stomach pushed tight against his pelvis.

“Oh, you don’t?” she said, feigning hurt in her melodic voice, a smooth, soft hand stroking the stubble ridden planes of his face. She jutted her purple lips out, her bottom out further, in a false pout. “You don’t need me, lover?” she questioned, pushing into him with her body, and trying to work the last vestiges of free will from him with her magic.

It appeared to be working; he pushed back, and leaning over her pressed a kiss to her mouth with hungry, lustful abandon. A groan escaped his throat as she pulled him deeper into the kiss and she felt him start pushing her backwards, towards her divan. Oh, she thought to herself with a wicked cackle, this couldn’t be going any better! Once Arthur laid with Circe, her spell would be almost unbreakable for the short term, and over time she would continue to work her fingers into the warrior king of Atlantis.

She didn’t get her Ares, but she would get a blonde Adonis of her own, Hippolyta, you bitch, and it would come at the cost of the Amazon Diana’s heart. Arthur’s strong hand gripped her backside, pulling her up to rest on the divan. Unlike Diana, she offered no resistance, but rather compelled him further. Her hands gripped the side of his face and pulled him down over her, pressing hot, heavy kisses against his mouth, running along his jaw line and down his neck.

Arthur was unable to control his desire, every touch, every kiss, every second spent drove him deeper into the madness of his lust. He wanted her more with each passing second.

“Now how do we get these off?” she cooed to him, tugging at his scale armour. He looked down and nodded, complying by removing his shirt, exposing a broad, well-muscled chest, a road map of scars ripping across his body. Circe bit her bottom lip and grinned, a lustful pur escaping from deep in her throat as she reached out, caressing the flesh in front of her.

“And what about the rest?” she challenged with a wry smirk, pushing him back into a standing position to strip.

Naturally, Arthur was forced to comply, though the impression he got of his own actions were that they were fully consensual; he wanted to please her, he wanted to make love with Circe. He wanted to serve her.

“What a good boy,” she cooed, beckoning him now with a crook of her finger. “Now, come here and give me a kiss…”


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Her bare feet left blood foot prints as she walked to her armoury. Her own armour was inappropriate for the situation; she needed to co opt the strength, the glory, of a better, more innocent time.

“Mother,” she whispered, putting her hand up to the glass in front of the iconic Wonder Woman uniform for a moment, leaving a red blood stain as her fingers slid down. She flicked the latch on the side of the case and let it swing open.

She carefully took the uniform down, a red leather chest plate with a golden eagle on the top edge. She slid it around her body, buckling it across the side, synching it tight. A leather kilt, tinted blue, was the next part; it sat around her hips, the tips coming down to her knees. The armour wasn’t nearly as protective as her steel chest plate was, but it was more flexible, and more than that, it possessed an ancient right and her mother’s spirit. The boots were simple, leather with a red tint to them, coloured to match the chest plate; again, her own armour with it’s cold steel and heavy protective plates, made Hippolyta’s look downright flimsy, but it wasn’t the durability of construction Diana was looking for.

When her mother had donned this armour, even though she was fighting as Champion of Ares, God of War, she was fighting with a purity of heart, of purpose. She fought for the lives of others; so that there might be peace, as much of a contradiction as that might seem.

Many nights since her exile had seen Diana kneeling on the hard stone floor, looking and contemplating the differences between herself and Hippolyta as far as their ruling, and war making, styles had gone. Never once had Hippolyta allowed herself to be used; Diana had allowed her emotions and sorrow to blind her to the goading of Pentisilla, her own Aunt and Hippolyta’s sister! Diana had allowed the other woman to get in her head, use the mistrust that had been seeded by the false assassination attempt on her own life and the successful murder of her mother, Pentisilla’s own blood, to guide her into a bloody conflict that ended what could have been, what should have been, the merging of two great civilizations.

Part of her felt unfit to wear the armour, to be “Wonder Woman” any more, and the outside world would be inclined to agree, she imagined. Both her and Orin had been labelled war criminals after the peace accord was enacted and Diana suspected that were they to show their faces to the outside world an outcry for their heads would shortly follow.

Deep in thought and reflection, Diana hardly noticed the pressure in the temple increase. It wasn’t until the hair on the back of her neck went up that she noticed him. Her hand darted for the trident, gripping it tightly as she spun around; she was not alone in the temple, someone was watching her.

She smelt the tangy, metallic scent of blood invading her nostrils and wondered what was going on, before it clicked. As if dealing with one deity in a day wasn’t enough.

“You look just like her,” he spoke, and without being told or asking, Diana immediately knew that he was speaking of her Mother.

“Lord Ares,” she spoke, her voice dropping in volume and tone as the words tasted like ash in her mouth.

“My Child,” he replied, nodding his helmeted head as he stepped out from the shadows, merely a red glow eluding to where his eyes were.

“Am I?” she challenged, in no mood to be told more about the games and bothersome politics of the Gods; she had a mission which she must succeed at, not just for her own sake, but for the sake of Themyscira and her Amazons. Even though Triton and the threat of the island being sunk were now gone, Circe presented a much larger threat to the safety and security of the island, and to the world at whole. She was an agent of Chaos, a former member of the Cult of Ares, and former concubine to the God himself, before her mother stole his heart and provided him with a male heir, her brother Thrax, that is.

Ares simply regarded the Amazon in front of him. “You are an apt war maker, a natural born leader in the field of politics and battle,” he spoke in strong words, with a hint of absolutism in his voice; for the God of War there was no gray area, it would appear, merely black and white, win or lose. “You are the daughter of my favoured companion, and my child.”

The revelation was shocking and hit Diana like a punch from a titan, and yet somehow knowing she still had a parent, a guardian, and a conduit to her mother. “And the Queen?”

“You are the Queen, child,” he spoke, with what Diana thought was tenderness. “Your Mother has found peace in the Elusian Fields, having died to protect her beloved daughter, though she ached during the war. She saw you being manipulated by her sister and she wanted greatly to intervene, she begged me to intervene, but...” The God of War shook his head. “Even us immortals are not without our rules and vanity; you paid such homage to me. You were never more my child than when you headed your Furies against Orin.”

His words were cold comfort and caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up on end.

“The sorceress you are fighting...”

“Circe,” Diana stated, there was no question at this point.

“Yes,” Ares nodded, still standing in the shadows, keeping as little exposed to the child he finally claimed. “She is a former companion of mine. She is bitter because I chose your mother rather than her to bare my heir.”

“Thrax.”

“And yourself,” he added with a gentle nod. “You are more a warrior than he; your brother is merely a very skilled killer who claims the right of being my son. You my child, were you not of my blood, are still of my spirit.”

“But why now?”

“You needed to know what you are up against in Circe,” the God of War spoke in a very plain, matter of fact tone.

Diana nodded and when her eyes returned to the shadows where the glowing eyes had been, but they were gone. Taking a deep breath she reached for the trident, the weapon of Poseidon, of Arthur, and steadied herself for the journey ahead of her.

Circe’s temple was likely to be guarded by slaves from the Ancient times; heroes whom she ensnared with her beauty and whiles. Diana’s heart ached with the idea that she might be forced to face Arthur in mortal combat once again. The two were an even pair, on land she had a slight advantage, and the opposite was true underwater.

Luckily for Diana, Circe’s temple was located at the top of a mountain, with no water in sight.  

“I’m coming, Arthur…” she whispered as her feet left the ground and Diana, Queen of the Amazons, took off into the air.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The Temple of Circe, a self-erected structure created to emphasize the witch’s feelings of demi God status, was located at the top of a remote mountain in the Greek Islands on an unpopulated speck of land no one ever found any worth in so never bothered developing. Of course, part of the reason they never found any worth there was because of the witch herself, carefully disguising her island as an unattractive waste land where no one would ever be interested in developing.

The reality was that the island was a lush paradise; atop the mountain was greenery and wild life as beautiful as the sorceress abounded, uninhibited by the destructiveness of man. Circe enjoyed solitude on the island now, but prior to the war between Atlantis and the Amazons things had not been nearly as good.

Hippolyta and Pentisilla had defeated Circe in battle, after the prior had humiliated her in front of the Cult of Ares, taking the God’s favour from her and delivering not one heir to the God, but two: a boy, then, as a gift to the Queen, a daughter who would inherit the Amazonian throne. It sickened her to think of what a brute Hippolyta was, though she was certainly one upped by that twat of a sister, Circe thought to herself as she stood on the balcony of her temple, looking out over the beauty in front of her.

She could still remember when this was a prison; when her island was as ugly and barren as the island Diana inhabited, but rather than being granted the freedom to move around, Circe was chained and fully shackled, further humiliated. As if it wasn’t enough to be dumped for that ogre of a so called woman warrior, she was imprisoned so as she wouldn’t be any trouble to the happy couple.

And the cherry on top: Ares okayed the entire humiliation.

She had spent the first few centuries decrying her situation, lamenting the humiliation of her imprisonment, praying and begging Ares to end her suffering. As the centuries wore on, however, her sorrow and depression turned into anger, and a deep, seething hatred for the Amazons and the God of War.

She still remembered when the redheaded Atlantian queen had shown up, freeing her from her bondage, telling her that if she ensured a victory for Arthur that Circe would be granted a place in the Atlantian court, and dominion over any Amazons that survived the purge and turned over the Furies and the war criminal known as Wonder Woman.

At first Circe had been confused, wondering what could have driven Hippolyta to war with Atlantis, but then Mera filled her in on what she knew of what was going on, that Garth had been wrongly accused of killing Hippolyta, how the child never could commit such a crime, but Diana would not listen. Guided by her aunt, the newly crowned queen had started a war with Atlantis, and Arthur, quickly recovering from what little of his heart was broken, married his mistress Mera. Mera had learned from Orm, Arthur’s brother, that Hippolyta had imprisoned Circe on this island, and had been given the coordinates to go fetch the witch.

Of course, later she would learn that Orm knew of the island because Pentisilla had told him during one of their late night trysts. She had never fulfilled her half of the deal. By the time Diana and Arthur had got to the point where Circe’s intervention would turn the tide of the war it was too late, she had redeveloped her powers to the point where she couldn’t be compelled to perform like some circus act.

And now, she had the King of Atlantis in her bedchamber, drunk on her love and sedated, ready to do whatever it is she asked of him, even kill the woman he had only recently begun to rekindle a relationship with. Turning her back to the thick marble banister that ran around the perimeter of her balcony she held her empty hand out and a slave, not Arthur but equally handsome, filled it with a goblet of wine.

Looking inside to her bedchamber she saw Arthur, reclining on the divan. She had exerted some control over him, but after a certain point, he would find himself wanting, desiring her approval and needing her love and affection. Just like all the rest.

He stirred and she smiled, signalling for another glass of wine to be brought. “And good morning, Orin,” she cooed to him, calling for him to come to her. “You slept so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.” Her words were sickly sweet, filled with feigned concern for his well being.

“You did wear me out...” he said with a grin, sliding the two glasses from her hands and setting them behind her, pressing his body into hers and her back to the sun warmed stone.

“You didn’t complain,” she giggled flirtatiously as a retort.

“Nor am I complaining now.” His grin was charming; poor Diana, she had truly had a chance at an epic story book romance, and yet here they were... Circe had Arthur, and soon she was going to have the throne of the Amazons, and Diana would have nothing.

“My Queen,” one of the other slaves came to Circe. “There’s an intruder on the island. It appears to be Diana, the Amazon.”

“Diana?” a flicker of memory fluttered through his mind, his voice reflecting the fond memories that still lingered in the back of his mind. “She’s coming here?” he seemed confused, and a little panicked as Circe shoed the other slave away.

“Tell the Gorgon to be ready for her,” she ordered, waving off the slave as he attempted to apologize. “Arthur, shush. No, Diana isn’t coming.”

“But he said...” there was a confused, almost child-like aspect to him as he spoke about the possibilities of his ex coming to his rescue. “She’s coming for me? But why?” Arthur turned to look at Circe once more, his eyes hardening. “You told me she hated me. She killed Mera, the love of my life. You told me...”

Always quick on her feet, Circe didn’t lose a beat. “She’s coming to kill you, and me, my love,” she said with a soft tone, allowing a look of concern to come across her face, her purple brows drawing together, furrowing in the centre. “She wants to ruin every chance you have at love, Arthur,” Circe cooed, reaching out and touching the love drunk king’s cheek. “She wants to hurt you, and make sure you’re as miserable as she is in her lonely exile...”

“I was lonely as she before I found you,” he smiled broadly as Circe became confident once more that he was onside with her, his cheek pressing into her hand as she led his face to hers. “I am so lucky you have set me free from that bitch’s spell...” he whispered to her, stealing a kiss from the witch’s purple lips. “But I cannot let my past bring danger on you. I cannot let Diana harm you.” There was a sincerity to his words that made Circe believe he was serious; he was willing to die for her.

Interesting, she thought to herself, still charming the king who was blissfully unaware that while he engaged her lips, her mind was elsewhere, turning over the facts and options presented in front of her. The new information that Arthur would lay his life down in front of Diana was interesting. It would be heart breaking to force Diana to fight him; she had forgiven him long before Circe became involved, but now she was starting to redevelop her feelings for Arthur. It would be tragic to lose such a fun toy so soon, but there was always the chance that he could win, in which case Diana’s suffering would be shortened, but she would die knowing Circe had claimed Arthur as one of her many play things. Decisions, decisions.

“Let me kill the Amazon, my Goddess,” his voice was deep, showing a capacity for violence that even Circe was shocked to hear. “As a gift, for you. A tribute to you. The Amazons thrust you out; they cast you out because Diana’s mother was jealous of your beauty...”

Circe was surprised; apparently Arthur was aware of part of the story as well. And here she thought that Mera had come simply under Orm’s misguided advice. Circe wondered if Arthur knew Orm was the one who had encouraged Mera to take on Diana solo, if his beloved betrayer of a brother had sent his wife, the love of his life, to the slaughter at the hands of his most hated enemy to fuel the flames of war.

“You would do that for me?” Circe feigned shock and awe; she knew he would do anything she asked of him, even give up everything he needed to survive, but the act was required. She didn’t have full control of him yet and in order to ensure compliance, Circe needed to let him feel like he was protecting her, that he was a saviour, a white knight ready to protect his damsel in distress from a vile villainess.

“I would go to the ends of the world for you,” he spoke charmingly, coming in for a kiss.

“Oh, I don’t need you to go that far,” she said when their kiss finally broke leaving him breathless in her wake. “I just need you to kill Diana, and bring your trident back with you.”

“Yes, my beloved,” he said, planting another kiss on her lips.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Diana knew where to find Circe’s temple; one time in the years before the war it had been her prison. The Amazon Queen had her theories on who and how Circe was freed, centring mainly on Orm and Pentisilla using Mera as a pawn before deciding her use was done and it was time she made the ultimate sacrifice to their cause.

The island would be guarded, but Diana wasn’t sure by whom or what, though she was prepared to face some of Circe’s more talented champions. Her mother hadn’t told her much about the rival for Ares’ love, but she had learned much from her aunt, who at the time seemed to be keeping a close eye on the sorceress. Circe had claimed the souls of many of the most handsome, strongest heroes of legend and antiquity, not only of the Greek and Roman tradition, but it was rumoured she had Saxon, Norse, Celt and Gaels among her lovers as well.

And now she had Arthur, Diana thought to herself, her feet landing on the lush ground. Circe’s island appeared, to Diana, to be magical, much like her own, with flora and fauna much like that which had been on her island prior to the sinking of Themyscira. It was beautiful, almost painfully so; it was like Circe had taken every aspect of the life Diana should have been living for her own.

Unbidden, her hand clenched the trident and the corners of her mouth turned down.

No, the Queen corrected herself as she looked up to the top of the mountain side where Diana could see the purple drapes of Circe’s self-indulgent shrine was erected fluttering in the wind. She could try to take what was Diana’s, just as she had tried to take the attention of the God of War from her mother, but she would not succeed.

She must not succeed.

Diana set off into the forest, heading towards the foothills of the mountain.

A long, serpentine tail, slithered behind her, the head and body long disappeared into the underbrush. It was a forest, though, a decidedly tropical one at that, and as such, the Amazon did not pay any special note to a snake in the grass.

Foolish child of Aphrodite and Athena, the Gorgon known as Medusa thought to herself. You go to rescue the hero of Poseidon, and the benevolent Circe gives my sisters and I a chance to reclaim our past indignities in one foul swoop.

“Hush sister,” Stheno, the eldest of the three sisters said. “You will be avenged, but we mustn’t be hasty. Athena forbid us to harm women, we must made the attack look as if she attacked us first.” Stheno was the most independent, and aggressive when it came to killing men, of the sisters, but she also was one of the least comfortable with the plan. Being so independent minded, she was wary of trusting Circe, known for being manipulative.

“Pox on Athena’s wishes!” said Medusa. “I begged and prayed for her protection and for a sin not of my own doing or cause she turned all of us into these creatures!” Medusa had been defiled, raped, on the floor of Athena’s temple by the sea god Poseidon, and when she begged the Goddess to protect her, Athena was disgusted with what had happened and turned Medusa, along with her sisters who had watched helpless as their youngest companion had been defiled, into the Gorgon monsters. Adding insult to injury, the hero Perseus had killed Medusa, and given the head to Athena to put on her shield! It was not until Circe came to Hades and revived the youngest sister that the three were united again, and taken from the desecrated temple they had once been charged with “protecting,” and given refuge in the lush paradise of Circe’s island.

There was, of course, a catch. There was always a catch in the world of Greek myth. The catch in this case was that they would have to recant their promise, their vow, to never harm a woman should any Amazon enter the island, especially if the Amazon was the Queen, Diana. The special caveat was allowed, as the Amazons were servants of, not only Aphrodite who had struck the lust for Medusa in the heart of Poseidon, but also Athena, who punished not only the girl, but her sisters, for the sins of the Goddess’ own brother. To learn the reason Diana was coming to Circe’s temple was to save her former lover and fiancé, the Champion of the hated Poseidon, was even better.

“Patience,” urged the middle sister, the most even minded of the group. Even before the transformation Euryale had been the most gentle, though not nearly as beautiful as her sisters. Of all the sisters, she had urged modesty and been the most devout follower of the Goddess Athena, though she never complained when her fate was the same as her sisters. Instead she put her immortality and her challenge to protect to good use. “The sweetest kills are the ones that are waited on.”

The trio set out after the Queen, following at a distance and waiting. There was a clearing coming shortly, and along the edge the woods got thick to the point it would slow Diana down, The sisters knew she would not use her power of flight, doing so would expose and announce her presence to Circe immediately. Instead she would have to work her way through the thick underbrush on foot, and without her powerful sword. In its place, it appeared, she was wielding the weapon of Poseidon, the mythical trident used by his champions. The sisters inferred that it was from Arthur, that it was part of a previous alliance with the king, knowing nothing of the first half of Circe’s plan, reuniting the lovers by using Poseidon’s most powerful and aggressive son, an enemy to both Arthur and Diana.

They knew only what they needed to know to be useful to the sorceress. They knew Diana worshiped Athena as the Queen of the Amazons. They knew Arthur was the Champion of Poseidon as King of Atlantis, and they knew that the two were madly in love and had wronged Circe, not that the details of that part mattered much to the sisters.

Diana hesitated as the woods started to get thicker, slowing her pace down. Something wasn’t right in her mind; she felt like she was being herded in a specific direction. Her blue eyes peered around, trying to use her peripheral vision to get more information on her surroundings, but it was useless; her vision was impeded too much by the dense foliage, as her hearing was distracted by the calls of birds and the slithering of snakes.

Snakes…? Diana thought on this for a moment, she had heard a snake, and seen the long tail of one previously.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The dry cracking of a branch snapping under too much weight saw Diana spin around, turning to face three sisters whose look could turn a man to stone. Luckily for Diana, their stone stares did nothing to women. Her blue eyes met with each of the women in turn before she darted to the left, removing the trident from her back where she had been keeping it, where Arthur had always kept it; it was easily accessible when needed but did not impede movement. The long, golden handle shot out as she gripped the shaft, readying herself for battle.

Diana knew she would have a much easier time of this if she could get to the clearing, but with the three Gorgons it would be difficult. It was now evident to her that they had been herding her, directing her travels through the woods to get her to this very spot, while the thick under-brush blocking her movements, it did nothing but enhance the mobility of the sisters.

“Circe’s manipulating you!” she called out as one of the sisters, likely Stheno, slashed through a log as thick as Diana’s waist with her powerful claws. The log was right behind the Amazon and splintered, barely slowing the beastly creature down.

“And your Gods manipulate you, Diana, Queen of the Amazons, champion of the hated Athena,” the snake woman hissed, her teeth sharp and venomous as the snakes framing her face, all wildly snapping, clearly feeding off the negative energy of Stheno.

The Gorgon surged forward and Diana was able to dodge, moving to the right when the beast went to Diana’s left. Her feet were quick, but when she went to step over what she thought was a root and it lifted, Diana knew she was being caught off guard.

Euryale, the most moderate of the sisters, which is to say the least crazy, had managed to get Diana off her feet and into a prone position. The Amazon could feel the cold, tight grip of Euryale’s tail sliding around her ankles, constricting and tightening as she wound her way towards Diana. “Champion of the Olympians,” the voice was even, but still even from a distance in the shadows Diana knew the woman attached to the voice was angry. “Your Gods rape, pillage and plunger mortals with impunity, why should we allow their champions to continue on? You and Arthur defend the Gods when clearly they are the villains in this story, not us.”

The Gorgon was smart enough to bind Diana’s legs, but she left her hands and arms free, and when she spoke she gave up her position. Clearly, as much as they had fought and defended their temple refuge, they had never been in a real battle. Giving away her position was a mistake that would prove fatal to the middle sister. Diana thrust forward, launching the trident towards the origin of the sound, adjusting for what she perceived to be the Gorgon’s height, aiming for her heart.

There was a wet sound as the trident sunk into flesh, followed by a pain-filled moan which quickly elevated into a scream. Diana felt the tail around her lower body loosen and was quickly able to overpower what was left of Euryale’s grip strength, unwinding her tail and dragging the screaming, moaning Gorgon out into the small clearing where Diana had been felled.

“You Amazon whore!” she heard a voice call from behind her, the angriest, most aggressive of the sisters, Stheno, was showing her true form, surging forward from the darkness, her brass claws shimmering in the light that filtered through the canopy.

Diana, quick to her feet, dashed forward into the thick, dark bush, advancing on the dying body of the sister Gorgon, pushing through the dense foliage as fast as she could. Foolishly, she had thrown her weapon into the shadows, but she wasn’t so much concerned with that. The Gorgons, with the exception of Medusa, were known to be immortal, which meant it was nearly impossible to completely kill them. Diana did not want any loose ends coming to bite her in the ass when she finally found her way to Circe, and a half dead Gorgon would be just the kind of thing that could really ruin her day.

Euryale was dying, or at least appeared to be, when Diana finally found the body of the Gorgon, the trident had gone almost the entire way through her, stopping only when the tines became entangled with her breast bone. Diana had to brace her foot against the body to free her weapon, but she was eventually able to free it, along with several feet of small intestines. Never one for a weak stomach, Diana continued on.

“Come and get me, Stheno!” Diana called the eldest sister by name. “Or can you not smell the blood of your sister!” She hated playing this game; despite popular opinion of Diana she was her mother’s child, not her alleged father’s, and death was seen as a tool, not something to be enjoyed but rather an unenviable task that was required.

Stheno was blinded by rage, just as Diana had hoped she would be. Just a little further, she thought, hearing the slashing and hearing the snapping of wet wood, the removal of living limbs from the trees as the enraged Gorgon slammed through the brush to her sister’s aid.

As the screaming got closer Diana readied herself. Beating the Gorgons was half mental and half physical, and to get into the heads of the creature she merely had to think of how she would react should Donna be in danger. The answer was easy: blind rage. It was no different than when Arthur had reacted to the returning of Mera’s headless corpse, a decision that still haunted Diana to this day, much like she expected what she was about to do to continue to haunt her for centuries to come.

As Stheno reacted to the screaming, diving for what she thought was Diana, the Amazon jumped off a tree branch, swinging down to the ground on her lasso, which was counter weighted with the dying body of Euryale. Stheno’s slashing brass claws, which had been aiming for Diana’s midsection, instead passed through her sister’s, slashing and completely disembowelling the howling creature, hanged at the end of Diana’s lasso. It was a gruesome scene, blood and entrails raining down, bathing the queen in unrivaled gore, but it got the job done with one of the Gorgons. Only two more to go.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Stheno wailed in mental and emotional agony when she realized that rather than attacking the Amazon she had torn her sister’s guts asunder. “You wretched excuse for a warrior!” Stheno called, attempting in her anger to goad Diana into a face to face fight which, fuelled the humiliation of falling for Diana’s trick. “You coward!” she taunted again, her voice hoarse with anger.

“You confuse tactics for cowardice, Stheno,” Diana called back, tying off the end of the lasso and allowing Euryale to hang for a moment longer. Diana did not need the lasso for Stheno, not yet at least, but she did wish she had her sword rather than Arthur’s trident. She found the weapon comfortable as a projectile, to be throne like a javelin, but it was clumsier for close combat than her sabre was and she missed the quick slashing of her axe.

“Hiding in the shadows from a fate you fully deserve is a tactic? You disappoint me, Amazon,” the Gorgon chuckled. Diana could hear her movements; she was not as careful as the youngest sister to hide her movements in the underbrush.

She knew the same tricks that worked on Euryale would not work on Stheno; the latter was more of a fighter than the prior would ever have become. And, taking this into consideration, Diana planned accordingly, assessing the situation as she would if she were sparring with Artemis, rest her soul in Tarterus the traitorous bitch. The attack would, naturally, have to be a surprise, using an advantage she had over the Gorgon, which would not be strength. Speed? Perhaps, but there was one ability she had that Stheno did not possess.

Flight.

Even though she had to remain under the canopy, Diana could significantly improve her chances of landing a successful blow on the Gorgon if she used her ability to fly as an advantage, limited as she would be, rather than keeping to the ground. Even if she had to stay under the tree tops to avoid being spotted my Circe’s guards, she would still be able to disguise her steps and keep her tracks from being seen.

Diana’s boots left the ground and she silently rose into the air, no longer making the slightest noise aside from the rustle of the leaves around her as she climbed above the Gorgon’s twisting form, keen eyes following the tail back to the body. She had placed the trident on her back in order to rig up Euryale’s body, but now she carefully removed it, letting the shaft extend to full length.

The tail of the half serpent monster grew wider the closer to the body Diana got. She could see the Gorgon thrashing, slithering carelessly, recklessly through the vines, slashing almost indiscriminately through the trees and vines, trying to get to where she assumed Diana had gone.

“Come out come out where ever you are,” the monster screeched, trying to antagonize Diana. “And here I thought you Amazons were brave, now I find you’re no braver than the coward Athena and the bully Poseidon!” She laughed a bitter, hollow sound, as if she barely believed her words herself but was speaking them aloud that they might bolster her confidence against Diana.

Diana let her body rest silently on a large branch, watching the woman beneath her, refusing to give into the goading from Stheno. The less she heard, the more angry she got, twining herself into circles, eventually entangling her long tail around several large trunked trees, trees so deeply rooted that even the strongest of the three Gorgons couldn’t up root them.

The serpentine body jerked several times before it finally clued in to Stheno that she was stuck. It was then that Diana decided that the time came for an attack.

Diana readied her trident, aiming the tines down, timing it just right. The drop saw the trident, backed by Diana’s weight and the force of her arms thrusting downward, through Stheno’s skull and through her neck, with two of the tines actually coming straight through the Gorgon’s body and face. Blood spurted out of her mouth, coating her lips and teeth almost instantly.

Diana twisted her wrist, the trident ripping out the side of Stheno’s face, the opposite tine spinning through her spinal cord and neck tissue, tearing through chunks of flesh and bone as if they were nothing. The Amazon queen smirked, she was starting to like this weapon. Diana continued to drive down until the Gorgon bent and drove into the ground, the tips of the trident digging into the soft, moist earth.

 Her knees straightened and Diana pulled the weapon from the dying mythical beast, twisting the shaft so it retracted back into the handle. Diana was covered in blood from the two elder Gorgons, but she had yet to encounter the youngest, wiliest of the three, the Gorgon Medusa.

She trekked back to where the remains of Euryale were, twitching still as the nerves finally died from loss of blood, untying the lasso from the ground and letting the corpse land in a heap, further coating her in the insides of the creature. Without emotion she worked the blood soaked knots out of the golden lasso, releasing Euryale’s throat from its snare and recoiling the whole mess, attaching it to her hip.

Water. Diana needed to find water. She didn’t want this blood drying on her. The blood soaked queen stood silently, listening for any sounds that might signal water, letting her blue eyes close against the invasive sounds of the forest. Happily, she heard no sounds of slithering serpentine bodies, nor the draw of a bow. Medusa was a talented archer, her skill level was almost on par with those of the Amazons themselves, so Diana would be on the alert for the sound of a bow string being drawn.

In the distance, Diana was able to hear the faint trickle of water, to the North if she was correct. In order to travel silently, she didn’t want to give away her position before she was ready, or before she had let Medusa know her sisters, her Immortal Sisters, were dead.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Diana’s hearing was correct, just to the north there was a crystal clear river, flowing gently out to the ocean slowly enough to be warm but still refreshing. She came to rest at the river’s edge, her boots sinking into the soft silt of the bank as she touched down, blue eyes alert for any signs of Medusa.

She plunged the sharp, tri pronged end of the trident into the sand just on the low side of the water line before walking slowly into the water. The red that clung to her boots was the first to wash away, and it would continue to as she walked into the river until it came to her knees and began scrubbing away the gore that covered her, kneeling down to scoop some of the silt from the river bed, grinding it into her flesh to get the more stubborn sections out before taking the risk and putting her head underwater.

Even in the fresh water, the act of being submerged brought back time with Arthur; time spent in years gone by with Arthur in the beautiful capitol of Atlantis, but also more recent times, such as the battle with the cetus. She had to remember what she was doing here. This was not about Circe, this was about getting Arthur back and restoring the throne in Atlantis. Diana could not afford to get side tracked by personal issues and revenge on Circe. What happened between the sorceress and her mother was in the past; it was not any cross to be borne by Diana.

She ran her fingers through her hair, her nails digging into her scalp, scrubbing the blood and gore from her raven locks, and that’s when she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t anything obvious, it was merely a flash, a shadow of something above the surface. She smirked. The trail had called the youngest sister. Good.

Diana continued on as if she hadn’t noticed, continuing to scrub her hair, snapping her upper body out of the water and sending a semi circle of hair, flinging a wave of water as she went. It was all slightly homoerotic, the water and blood dripping down her form, washing off her skin and armour, the red washing away down river, spreading the scent of the Gorgon’s death for the remaining sister to come find her.

And find her Medusa did. Holding her breath, Diana twisted her hair, draining the water and binding into a bun for the time being, she would need her hair out of her face for this fight. Stheno was the most vicious, but Medusa was the craftiest, and an expert with a bow. Even now, back arched to the warmth of the sun, Diana could hear the drawing of a bow.

The arrow was let fly from the bow and came zooming towards Diana. The Amazon Queen was smooth, and fast, her reaction time trained to accommodate battling inhuman and immortal combatants. Medusa’s first arrow glanced harmlessly off her silver bracer, a silver band several inches wide that went up her forearm that all Amazons wore, to remind them of the history of bondage they suffered.

Diana brought her fists down and took to the air, flying towards where the arrow had originated, though it was possible by the time she got there, the slithering half serpent woman would no longer be in her shooter’s nest, being able to see Diana rushing forward, without weapon.

Fine by her, Diana thought. It was all part of the plan any ways.

Medusa saw the charging Amazon, and while she was fuelled by rage caused by the murder of her supposedly immortal sisters, unlike the elder siblings she was not going to allow herself to be blinded by rage. Diana was a servant of Aphrodite and Athena, and charging in to save the Champion of Poseidon; she only added reasons to revel in her death when she murdered Stheno and Euryale. The remaining Gorgon was going to enjoy toying with Diana. She had been denied the ability to take her rage out on women for so long by the arrogant Athena, Medusa planned on enjoying this as much as she could.

Foolish Amazon, she thought to herself, noticing that Diana had left the trident in the sand, coming at her with merely her bare hands and the lasso she had hanged Euryale with. Medusa let her long tail hang in a tree, taunting the Amazon and lying about her position while she readied another arrow. She had missed with her first shot, Diana’s reflexes were simply too fast; Medusa had misjudged, thinking that the time spent in exile after the great Amazon/Atlantian war had softened the Queen. It appears that quite the opposite was true. Medusa vowed she would not make the same mistake twice.

The second arrow released as Diana neared the serpentine tail, finding a home right in the woman’s shoulder. The Queen of the Amazons bellowed in pain, the arrow entering through the back, tearing through muscle as it went and burst out the front. Normally Medusa would shoot with poison arrows, but with a woman like Diana it would be a waste of effort; nothing Medusa had at her disposal would work on Amazon physiology.

It was a clean shot, though, and caught the Amazon by surprise.

As much as Medusa would like to watch and take another pot shot at the Amazon, she knew that it wouldn’t be long before she found the new spot. She fired two more arrows, both designed to miss the Amazon, to give her a false sense of hope that Medusa was not as cunning and clever as the legends had told. Of course, if you asked the Gorgon herself, she would say of course the legends were inaccurate; she was much more clever and cunning than the writers of legend had given her credit for.

Diana’s shoulder crumpled forward as the arrow dug through her flesh, the sharp point coming out just under her collar bone. That the serrated arrow head missed her clavicle was a blessing, as was the fact it shot straight through her. It only slowed her slightly as she stopped to break the head off with her left hand, her right reaching behind her to draw the shaft out of her body just in case Medusa had access to something that could harm her.

A clumsy shower of arrows imbedded themselves into the tree, causing Diana to jump back, confident of finding a safer place on the ground and on the other side of the tree.

Funny, she thought to herself, pressing her bare shoulders into the rough bark of the tree, ignoring the pain flaring in her shoulder where it touched with her raw, open flesh. It was not like Medusa to miss, or to waste arrows, which she could guarantee now were not poison tipped as wasting a poisoned arrow was worse than simply wasting an arrow.

But why did the three arrows just fired at her miss? She had been a fairly stationary target, as foolish as that was, and yet Medusa had missed her… The only logical conclusion Diana could come to was that she was missing on purpose, but to what advantage? To draw Diana into a trap!

With this new clarity Diana sprinted back to the river bank. This confrontation had started with Diana trying to draw out Medusa, and foolishly she had allowed the Gorgon to draw her back into the forest, where the serpentine archer would have the advantage over Diana and her manual weaponry. Foolish, foolish! She scolded herself.

She reached the bank and had a momentary lapse of position, panicking because she could not see the trident. Very foolish, she thought to herself. She had left the most powerful weapon in her possession, that was not even hers to begin with, in the sand and Medusa had…

The sound of slithering alerted her to movement behind her, where she also saw the trident, still buried head down in the sand. She didn’t have time to sigh with relief, merely moved towards the weapon, swift as her body would go.

The sand erupted in a plume as Diana landed face first, grabbing the weapon and rolling to the left, into the water and out of the reach of Medusa as she had also emerged from the safety of the trees to grab at the trident. She was surprised when a quick blast fired out of the end towards Medusa; that must have been what Poseidon meant when he granted her the ability to wield it as Arthur had. Because it was not planned, or even well aimed, the shot went wide and scorched into the bark of a tree several feet to Medusa’s left.

“And that is the kind of sloppiness that felled my sisters?” she laughed, a sarcastic bark of a sound, her head tilted back as the snakes snapped viciously at nothing. It gave Diana enough time to get back to her feet, crouched low in the water. “Laughable!”

She was cocky, that was something Diana could exploit if she could get the snake woman to simply stand still for a moment in the opening, but she was quickly retreating back into the underbrush, firing several arrows off as she went.

Two were well aimed, one slashing Diana’s hip, making contact just at the joint between her upper and lower armour. The second went into her thigh.

“Damn it!” Diana hissed, pulling the imbedded arrow out of her leg, checking the depth of the wound on her hip as she took to the air where she could be more maneuverable. She had to trap the Gorgon in the open, which would be easier once she was out of arrows. She had noticed six remaining in the quiver, and with two recently fired, that would bring her total down to four.

Medusa was smart; the writers of legend had given her her due, which to Diana was a signal that she must have been even more exceptional than what they wrote seeing as she was female and historians of the classical period were notoriously misogynistic. She wouldn’t be foolish to just throw away her remaining arrows; Diana was going to have to outsmart her and get her to use up what she had left.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The rustling of leaves led Diana to where Medusa wanted her to go, but having caught onto the Gorgon’s plan Diana steered clear of the direct path, instead circling wide, using her flight under the canopy to her advantage once again.

She grabbed a large stone, something large enough to disturb the trees as if she were passing through carelessly. The idea was that she would distract Medusa and cause her to lose arrows needlessly into the brush, thinking she was shooting at Diana, when really she was firing at the rock. She threw the large boulder and instantly heard the twang of a bow string being released.

Three left, but she was sure that Medusa would not fall for the same trick twice, so she had to think of something else.

The taunting voice of the Gorgon called from the trees. “I imagine Sorceress Circe is claiming that little man of yours right about now,” she taunted. “The Champion of Poseidon, the letch, will be reduced to a puppet for the great queen, and with you dead, she’ll take her rightful place as Queen of the Amazons, and then she’ll restore me to my former beauty...”

So that is how she got Medusa on side. Interesting. Diana had to bite back the urge to laugh bitterly; Circe was a powerful sorceress but there was no way she would be able to overturn the curse set on Medusa by a God.

“She’s lying to you,” Diana called out. She was able to move soundlessly through the trees, avoiding landing on creaky branches and the risk of giving away her position by rustling leaves any more than necessary, only her voice would give away her movements.

She heard the whistle and another arrow leapt out of the darkness, Diana halted herself, pulling her trajectory sharply up, allowing the arrow to harmlessly deflect off her leather and gold plated boots.

“Only three left,” she called, taunting the archer, gliding through the air, effortlessly trailing the tail, no longer being used to distract her.

Twang!

“Two,” Diana said, catching this bolt and letting it fall to the ground. She readied the trident, allowing the handle to extend to its full length, carefully positioning herself. She pulled back, her grip and confidence sure, releasing the trident towards the serpent’s tail. The golden tines dug deep, through the flesh, imbedding itself in the dense wood of the tree trunk.

Medusa howled out, and Diana watched as the Gorgon’s serpentine body twitched and thrashed, trying to free itself from being pinned to the tree. Luckily, just as Diana had intended, her throw was strong enough to keep her stuck in place.

“You bitch!” Medusa cried out, letting lose another arrow, without any effort put into aim or control.

“You only have one left,” she said, coming down from behind the Gorgon, a hand gripping on several of the snakes that snapped and hissed in her hair, pushing her face forward into the trunk of the tree. The first hit bloodied Medusa’s nose and caused her eyes to water; the second hit jostled her brain, causing her hand to release the bow and let it fall to the ground.

Unarmed, she had only her brass claws, which she used wildly, slashing indiscriminately at Diana when she forced her face forward a third time, stunning the Gorgon completely, knocking her unconscious and cracking the trunk of the tree. “I am sorry,” Diana said, a hand gripping Medusa’s chin. She cracked the woman’s neck, killing her in a simple, brutal gesture. “I hope that your death brings peace to you and your sisters, Medusa, and that you are welcomed in the Fields.”

She pulled a knife out of a pouch on the side of the Gorgon’s quiver and severed her head from her body, just as Perseus had done in legend. Diana did not doubt that Circe would have her slaves guarding her temple, the heroes of legend whom she enslaved with her charms and sexual wiles, and kept alive for centuries, millennia in some cases, with her superior magic skills. Starring at the Gorgon’s face, even decapitated and dead, would cause them to turn to stone.

Nagging, a small voice in the back of her head, asked Diana if she was truly willing to use this weapon on Arthur if it came down to it. The answer was a resounding No; she would throw the head away soon as she removed the threat of Circe’s lesser lackeys, she decided. She could not risk the head of Medusa coming into contact with Arthur.

No more wasting time, though, she thought to herself. She was ready to invade head on; no more hiding in the trees. No more walking. Diana was going to take to the air and charge into Circe’s castle head on.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

“What do you mean the Gorgons are dead!?” Circe screamed, throwing her chalice of wine across the room, shattering the fragile ceramic and glass as it hit the wall. “I had them convinced that Diana’s death would bring them back to their former selves! How dare they let me down?” she screeched, taking an urn and throwing it as well, her anger exploding from her normally calm exterior.

“My love?” Arthur’s strong voice called from the veranda. “Is something wrong?” He entered in, his once red scale male shirt’s colour had changed to purple in order to match his mistress’ favourite colour.

“Diana has come to kill me!” she said desperately, playing off Arthur’s desire to play the hero, her large purple eyes pleading with him, rushing to meet him as he came in from the balcony to see what was causing the trouble.

Arthur took up her hands in both of his and placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead. “She can come, my Queen, but I will stop her,” he spoke in sureties; a tone that he might have used to try and reassure Mera during the war that, should she get pregnant, he would protect her and their child from the ravages of war.

“You are my Hero, my knight in shining armour,” she swooned to him, a hand reaching up to stroke the broad plane of his face, her eyes half closed as she leaned in for another kiss, pressing her body into his. Her grip on him was getting stronger, but by no means was it permanent; fighting someone who ran so deeply in his emotions such as Diana might cause her grip on Arthur to slip. She needed to constantly exert her influence over him, at least so long as he was within range, to ensure that when he battled the woman he, at one point at least thought he loved, her control would not slip.

“She has stolen my wife from me, she has caused disruption and the devestation of my kingdom,” Arthur spoke, his voice taking on a slightly unaware tone. Circe wondered if perhaps she was laying things on too thick, that the champion of Poseidon, King of Atlantis, would not wake up from her spell in sufficient time to watch as he slaughtered Diana, to watch her die as he begged fate to be less cruel. “The Amazon Queen has taken my trident as her weapon, and so I will take her weapon as my own. She will not get by my blade,” he bowed his head to Circe.

Yeah, just a little heavy on the Knight in Shining Armour, part she thought to herself.

“My Queen!” a second voice called from the balcony. “The Amazon is coming!”

“Go to your chamber, my Queen, and hide, I shall deal with the intruder and bring you her wretched head as a prize,” he spoke confidently, a man who knew he was not likely to be bested in physical combat.

“You are so brave,” she said, taking an amulet from her neck and putting it around his. She would tell him that it was a medallion so that he could think of her when he was in battle, but in reality it was a charm, to keep him under her spell as long as possible. She was so close, but Diana had managed to come so far and so very quickly, she did not want to risk the Amazon turning Arthur.

Circe retreated into the back chamber, bolting the door as she went, leaving Arthur and the remainder of her slaves, well armed and well equipped to die in order to prevent Diana from getting to their mistress.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Diana shot up to the palace, no more Missus Nice Girl, no more playing in the shadows. Time was running out and if she did not reach Arthur and manage to break Circe’s spell on him soon, he would be lost to her forever.

She allowed her mind to wonder, a risky plan, but why was she so concerned about Circe’s desire to posses Arthur. He hadn’t shown anything other than complete disdain, and outright hatred, of her in the years since the start of the war. Her mind wandering wasn’t a good thing; it did her no good to think about the possible ulterior motives she had to saving Arthur. One, because it did not matter how she felt about him, he did not love her, it was possible he had never loved her, but she would not push the past, and two because it did nothing to get her closer to saving him.

Ultimately, Circe was evil and needed to be stopped. End of story.

Diana had Arthur’s trident on her back and Medusa’s head in her hand, inside Circe’s temple she would find her sabre and axe, as well as her shield. If all other justifications failed, she could always call upon the need to have her own weapons back in her possession as reason to attack the witch.

Half way up the mountain Diana began to experience fire from archers posted as garrison fighters on the lower levels of Circe’s castle like temple. She drew the trident with her right hand, using it to swat away the sloppy shots that got too close for comfort, but for the most part, compared to Medusa, these men were amateurs. In her left hand she carried the head, holding it out in front of her as she went, hoping to turn as many of her slaves into stone statues as she could; the more she turned this way, the fewer she would have to outright kill.

Her feet touched the stone of the upper most terrace balcony and Diana looked around. There were five men, one armed with her axe. He must be one of her favourites, Diana thought to herself, eyeing the young man with dark hair and light coloured eyes set against bronze skin. The head was good enough to stall one of them, but she knew she couldn’t trust the same trick to work multiple times, even if they were just Circe’s stooges. There was also the risk that Arthur might come out and fall victim to the gaze as well.

Diana held the head out to the man wielding her axe, intending to turn him to stone and retrieve her weapon. She knew she was gaining comfort with the trident, but going up against Arthur, as she assumed she would be shortly, she wanted to have a weapon she was completely comfortable with on hand.

The handsome bronze statue of a man rushed Diana, his voice a mixture of anger and honey, but he spoke a language she did not recognize but could only imagine he was saying unflattering and hateful things judging by his tone. He did not look at the face, which forced Diana to move to plan B.

Still holding the head out in front of her, she dropped it, kicking it like a football, towards her rushing attacker. If nothing else, she hoped having a disembodied head coming towards him would slow him in his tracks.

She was correct. He moved to catch the head, but while she was preoccupied in reclaiming her weapon, another defender had gotten too close for comfort. She readied the trident, trying to replicate the blast she had fired earlier but to no avail. Never mind that nonsense, she thought bitterly to herself, throwing the trident with expert skill. It sunk into the guard, knocking him clean off his feet and back into the pillar behind him.

Diana allowed herself a satisfied smirk before turning her attention back to the man with the axe. Medusa’s face had turned him to stone, the axe had become part of him. Though still golden and gilded, it was held by a stone hand. Diana, with no weapon and still three guards to fight off, did what she had to do.

She rushed forward and, with her silver bracered forearm, smashed through the man’s wrist, freeing her axe before turning around to face the remaining three guards. They had all been Heroes of Legend, or famous people in Man’s World. Circe had a taste for extravagance and power, hence her interest in Ares in the first place.

“We cannot let you harm Mistress Circe!” one of them called out, dashing towards her while the other two to remain on the flank in case the charging man failed.

 And fail he did. Diana’s axe cut across his centre of his body, cleaving him clean in two, the top half of his body sliding to the ground as his legs crumbled and fell as well, a pile of mess and gore before her as she looked at the remaining two guards.

She caught the one on the left eyeing the Trident of Poseidon, still pinning his dead comrade to the support pillar. He must have thought himself quick, but he failed to beat Diana to the trident, catching her axe across his shoulder and chest. The blade imbedded itself in his chest, Diana had to brace her foot against his chest and push off with her heel, her boots cracking ribs as she dislodged the blade.

The final guard was running towards her but she freed the trident and let lose again, a sharp crack of lightning shot out from the tree tines as the weapon let loose from her hand. The electric jolt of the lightning caused his body to go rigid. Unable to dodge the trident, he was impaled and fell backwards.

She walked over to the corpse, putting her foot down on his midsection as she freed the trident from his chest, an eruption of blood squirting up as she did so, licking and staining her leg.

Once more covered in blood, Diana was a vision of her mother with her father’s spirit, blue eyes cold and ready for the final, hardest stage of her fight.

This was almost too easy, she thought.

“Diana!” His voice was like the roar of the Nemian Lion; pure aggression without a filter, angry and rough.

Almost.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

“Your reign of terror stops here, Amazon,” his voice called from just beyond the doors leading to Circe’s grand chamber. His voice was at once a balm for her soul but also an irritant, a signal that she still had much more to do, that her work was not done and was in fact far from over.

Diana took a deep breath steadying her shaky nerves. She needed to face Arthur; she needed to free him from Circe’s grip and return him to... To what? To an eternity, a life time at least, of defending his right to be king of the crumbling debris that used to be Atlantis?

No, Diana stopped herself. She couldn’t think of things like that. She had to be focussed.

“Arthur, this isn’t what it seems,” she said, putting the trident on her back, the shaft retracting into itself as she lowered the axe, her large, blue eyes peering through the floating mauve curtains. She reached out her empty left hand, pulling them back to expose Arthur, standing in the middle of the room, as angry as she had ever seen him.

“First you sought to separate me from Mera through marriage,” he said. “Then you killed her. Now I’ve found happiness with Circe and you wish to kill her as well!” It was an accusation more than a question, but everything in his statement was a lie.

“Arthur, listen to yourself!” she demanded. “These are not your words. This is not the truth and you know it! I never tried to separate you and Mera! Our problems are not form her so much as they’re about us...”

His shirt had changed; no longer was it the dark, almost blood red, that he had worn during the war, but now it was a dark purple; it was Circe’s colours. He even wore a very atypical amulet around his neck; never in the years of knowing Arthur did he wear jewelry.

That must be something, Diana thought to herself. She dropped the axe and took the trident off her back, the handle extending to its full length with a twisting flick of her wrist.

He laughed; Hera how she wanted to smack that smug look off his face, but she knew that it wasn’t entirely Arthur in there right now. Circe had control of him. She needed to break her hold, and her first attempt to do just that was going to be trying to take that amulet away, the problem would be getting close enough.

She tried firing the lightning charge from the trident, but naturally that failed to affect anything useful other than a laugh from Arthur. “You cannot operate the trident; you are not the chosen champion of Poseidon...”

She focussed on the rage that she had felt before when she was fighting with the Gorgons and the guards outside; the desperation at wanting to save Arthur. “This is for your own good,” she said, aiming the trident at her, specifically focusing her anger and hatred. Lightning leapt out and shot towards Arthur.

Having assumed Diana would be unable to make the trident work in her favour, Arthur was unprepared for the attack and it hit him full, square in the chest. His body fell back, his body pushed into the wall. “But... but how!” he asked, pushing to his feet, watching Diana’s movements carefully. “Only the Champion of Poseidon can use the trident’s powers like that.”

“Funny thing,” she said, correcting her posture and standing taller, with her shoulders squared and the trident’s heel resting on the ground. She wished she could lie and tell him that Poseidon thought he was no longer worthy to be his Champion, but she couldn’t; Diana could never lie. Especially to Arthur.

“Doesn’t seem very funny, Amazon,” he said, narrowing his beautiful, ocean blue eyes.

“Arthur...” she started, taking a half step towards him. “I cannot lie to you.”

“Good, I always did hate the sound of your voice,” he said, unsheathing her sword and coming towards her, the weapon ready to strike a high blow, likely aimed at her head to sever it from her neck.

She brought the trident up to block the slash from her own sword, letting out a grunt of effort. Arthur was much stronger, and a better fighter, than Circe’s other minions; this was going to much a much more difficult battle.

“Arthur, I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, her teeth gritted with effort as she fought off his blows.

“Pity,” he said, his voice seeming to sound genuinely disappointed. “I want to hurt you!” His foot came up and took her by surprise, a rookie mistake for the Amazon, catching her square in the stomach and launching her backwards, and though he tried to grab the trident back from her, her grip was stronger, keeping her body within range of a second attack, a knee to the ribs. She groaned in pain and dropped to her knees, her hand releasing her precious weapon much to her own displeasure.

 “If only you had been this soft during the war, it would have been a much shorter conflict and my beloved would still be alive,” his voice was filled with pain at the mention of Mera, and Diana ached for him. The mental pain and frustration he must be going through, trying to fight off Circe’s control, knowing the words he was spouting were lies and half-truths.

“Enough of your lies, Circe!” she shouted, the anger and resentment was not real; his real anger was much more bitter, much hotter than the half-hearted lies that fell from his lips under Circe’s guidance. Pushing herself to her feet, Diana launched herself at Arthur, wrapping his waist and driving with her powerful legs, trying to tackle him to the ground. Get him off his feet, get him immobile. Even during their courtship, whether they were in the water or on land, Diana always had the upper hand when it came to grappling and forcing his submission.

Fire erupted from her back and Diana felt an instant of panic.

This was so not the way she planned things.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

“Bleed you bitch,” he hissed at her, with more vitriol than he had ever used during the war; Diana was almost starting to believe Circe hadn’t created his hatred out of nothing, but rather she had simply drug to the surface all of the under lying hate and anger Arthur had towards Diana after all these years.

That thought, that this hate was real and not just a figment of Circe’s magic, hurt Diana more than any weapon, more than any blow, she had ever received.

Arthur’s trident hadn’t gone deep, not deep enough to hit any vital organs, but it had penetrated her armour and broken through the skin and if Diana did not find a way to end this fight quickly, she was going to be at risk of bleeding out. She dropped back to her knees, her arms dropping from his waist to his thighs and she pulled tightly, twisting with her shoulders, driving Arthur’s thigh hard to the right, knocking him off balance.

The pair tumbled to the ground, the impact against the cold marble causing Arthur to lose both the sword and his trident, leaving him unarmed. There was a slight struggle; Arthur trying to push down on her shoulders, make use of Diana’s injury to get back to his feet, but her grip was too tight around his legs.

She climbed up his body, taking his right hand first and pinning it down with her knee, the sharp part of her patella pressing down against his bare wrist to ensure compliance. The other hand, his water bearer hand, would be much more difficult, but it appeared Circe hadn’t really tapped into that part of him, so Diana left it alone, neither pinning or worrying about it, merely restraining it with her own right hand above his head.

“Arthur, listen to me, this isn’t you!” she said, her voice loud but without the stress of a yell, a little exasperated, as if she had been talking to a lover who simply wasn’t listening, which was kind of the truth.

“And what do you really know about me, Amazon?” he hissed. “You never loved me.”

“You know that is a lie!” she shouted down, leaning on his right wrist a little harder, knowing that it would cause him pain, but hoping that perhaps it would bring his attention back to her, and off the trident an uncomfortably close distance. “I loved you more than I have ever loved an outsider; it broke my heart when we went to war…”

“And yet to war you went, despite my pleading, my begging for reason! You Amazons and your duplicity! You make me sick!” he spat in her face. “You claim to be representatives of the Gods, to be spreading the ideals of peace and love, and yet you thrill in the blood of combat.”

“Arthur…” Diana found her resolve slipping. This was him; this was Arthur, truly, violently his own thoughts. He had said something very similar during their courtship; that he worried for a nation of warriors who promoted peace, then again after when she had asked for his forgiveness and he refused, laying the blame for the war squarely on her refusal to listen.

Her hand gripped the amulet around his neck, a symbol of Circe’s control over him, tearing it from him. It was easy for her to snap the chain, it was merely a thin gold link, even a human of average strength would have been capable of breaking it given the right motivation. “This!” Diana’s hand crushed the metal casing around the gem, cracking the amethyst coloured stone before pitching it out onto the balcony. “This is not you! She has control of you, Arthur, why can’t you see?” her voice pleaded for some sanity, some reason, from him, but the look in his eyes told her she hadn’t gotten through yet.

“You sanctimonious fool!” he spat back at her. “Mistress Circe has opened my eyes to the hypocrisy you Amazons preach; how can a nation led by the daughter of Ares ever be one of peace!”

His words cut her deep, and stung as badly as any wound could. Diana was put into a stunned silence by his words, her blue eye lost in the depth of his own, as deep and cold as the Arctic Oceans themselves, and just as lifeless.

“Oh Orin,” she whispered his Atlantian name. Could he actually know the depth of which his words cut her? What had Circe told him?

Her heart got the best of her and his water bearer hand was free, giving her a cross cut to the jaw, knocking the queen off balance, and off of him.  They rolled, with Diana trying to guide their direction away from his trident rather than towards. Her tactic worked, but she still took a second shot to the face for it. Stars erupted behind her eyes and she could taste blood as her nose began to bleed, dripping down her throat as she lay on her back.

Diana arched up, throwing Arthur off her with a thrust of her hips before getting back to her feet and diving for her sabre as he went in the opposite direction for his own weapon. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sabre and she turned just in time to catch Arthur’s trident as it came down upon her, the strength of his attack forcing her to sink to a knee. Never had she ever seen such hatred in the man’s face; even when they were about to kill each other and the mysterious, powerful figure stopped them…

“Die, Amazon trash,” he pushed harder, but her arms and shoulders were locked and would not bend further, regardless of the strength he put behind the trident.

“Arthur, please listen to me!” she shouted, trying to be heard over his own groaning.

“Oh darling,” Circe’s sing song voice called from behind the chamber doors. “Are you finished taking out the trash yet, I am so very lonely…”

“Yes Mistress,” he called back to her, and inside Diana felt a pang different from the one caused by his harsh words, or the tender kisses she would catch him sneaking Mera during their courtship. This one was like a dagger of ice through her heart.

“On second thought, bring her in, I want her to see something,” Circe’s voice called as the doors opened seemingly by themselves.

Oh joy, Diana thought as Arthur stood, grabbing Diana by the hair, dragging her behind him towards Circe’s chamber. She tried to find a grip on the slick marble, but her boots refused to find any sort of hold to stop or slow her down. What fresh hell and humiliation could Circe possibly have now.

“Stop thrashing, you barbarian,” Arthur gave her a swift kick in the ribs, strong enough to crack but not break them, eliciting a groan from the Amazon Queen as she was drug indignantly by a former love to face her greatest enemy.

This was not going to be good.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Arthur dragged her through the doorway to the sound of Circe’s laughter. “My dear, why don’t you take that little rope of hers and make sure she can’t do anything she might regret…”

Arthur merely nodded as he reached down to her waist, his blue eyes looking into her own. Oh Hera, she thought to herself, knowing that the lasso was one last chance to get through to Arthur. When he touched the Lasso of Hestia, he would be compelled to see the truth, all of the ugliness and the beauty of it. For many it was over whelming, but nothing compared to being bound by its length, or bound to it through your spirit as Diana was.

He took it from her and slipped it around her shoulders as she was careful not to present her hands. Arthur and Circe would both know her secret; she had told Arthur her inability to withstand the binding of her hands early on as protection. She crossed her wrists behind her back, letting it look as if Arthur had already tied her hands, hoping he did not reach down to ensure she was.

The lasso tightened around her shoulders, her eyes silently compelling Arthur to look at her, to meet her eyes.  Oh please, Gaea, look at me, she pleaded to herself. Look me in the eyes, Arthur! She screamed in her head, driving herself mad with the desire to see the truth reflecting in his eyes.

But it was no good.

“Oh, poor little Amazon Queen,” Circe came towards her, getting within striking distance of Diana. “All helpless with your hands tied… And now I’m left with quite the conundrum.” She paused, walking in a circle, tapping the corner of her mouth with her finger. “Originally, I was going to have my handsome new King here, slaughter you when my spell ran out, just in time to see the Champion of Poseidon kill the woman he once loved, the woman who, thanks to my spells, he forgave completely…”

Diana guessed the shock and disgust must have been registering plainly on her face thanks to the Lasso’s ability to compel the truth in any situation.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Circe feigned a soft, innocent expression. “Yes, just before I turned him, he forgave you, completely.” She walked up behind the statuesque form of Arthur, draping one arm over his shoulder, the other wrapping around his waist, rubbing his chest. “You broke his little heart when he saw you kissing Triton, his sworn enemy…”

“I didn’t…!” Diana was about to fall right into Circe’s trap, pushing forward on her knees, trying to get between the two.

“Oh, but you did, or at least, that’s what he saw… He also saw what happened in your temple, when you were willing to give yourself to his most hated enemy to save yourself, even though it would sign a death warrant for Arthur.”

“Lies!” She fought again against the ties, forcing Arthur to rework his grip, an action that did not go without notice by the Amazon. Yes, Arthur, she thought to herself. Grab on tight. Tighter! Wrap your hand in the lasso… C’mon, Arthur! If you’re going to do one thing for me for the rest of eternity, save yourself!

And, as if compelled by Diana’s thoughts, Arthur’s hand wrapped around the lasso, and… nothing happened. Diana tried to remain calm, not to let any disappointment or further weakness show on her face, instead she kept her eyes on Circe.

“Are they really? Well, you would know, you lie all the time,” Circe accused her. “You’re filled with contradictions, and it’s about time the world saw that, Amazon. You’re double sided sword; proporting to spread peace through war? Do you realize how stupid you sound? But, never mind, I’ve gotten off topic.”

Circe took a step towards Diana, cupping the other woman’s chin in her hands and forcing the Queen to stare her in the eyes. “Now, I was telling you how originally I had planned to have Arthur kill you, slowly, painfully, intimately, in a way only lovers can hurt each other, but now…” She turned and looked at Arthur. “I’m wondering if I might have thought wrong. He seems quite happy to get rid of you, which takes part of the fun out of it. I bet if I released all my holds on him right now, he would still kill you without a moment’s hesitation, don’t you think?” Circe tilted her head to the side, waves of purple hair falling over her shoulder as she did. “Oh, what does it matter what you think anyways,” she said, slapping Diana strongly across the cheek.

Her head turned sharply as she was slapped, blood which had been running down her cheek coming off her face in a small arch, landing on the white marble beside her as a curtain of raven hair fell across her face. Diana found her eyes pulled to Arthur, following the golden lariat up to his hand, where it was wound around several times. Her eyes travelled up to his eyes and she saw a familiar sparkle.

Arthur was back.

It was a fight to keep the grin off her face, but Diana managed to succeed, her head cast down with a curtain of hair covering her blue eyes, lest they speak the truth in what she saw, compelled, ironically enough, by her greatest weapon itself.

“You are not going to win, Circe,” Diana spat, blood dripping from her lips as she did, staining them a rich, dark red colour.

Finally back in control of himself, he saw with open eyes the damage he had inflicted on Diana; her nose was probably broken, judging from the blood, her eye would blacken soon, her back was bleeding from what looked like a stab wound from his trident. Oh Diana, he thought to himself, I am so very sorry. They had fought during the war on several occasions, she had even nearly strangled him with the very lasso she was bound with now, and yet he had never felt sorry for injuring her as he did now. Perhaps he had truly forgiven the past, or perhaps the indignity of being played with like a puppet weighed heavier on him than the equal battles they had fought.

“I’m starting to grow tired of her smell, Arthur,” Circe said dismissively, why don’t you just dispose of the poor creature?” she offered him his trident, having retrieved it from where he had dropped it in order get a better grip on the lasso.

Arthur took the trident in one hand and looked at Diana; how on earth were they going to get out of this one? It was a Hail Mary of a plan, if it could be called a plan at all, but Arthur released the lasso and turned the trident on Circe, firing a blast off at the woman. Orin was instantly glad that Poseidon hadn’t taken away his status as Champion while he was under the sorceress’ spell, or else the lightning never would have leapt out, arching out hungrily towards the witch.

“What!” Circe conjured up a force field, a violet globe around her form that dissipated the lightning. “How did you break my...? Where is the amulet!?” she demanded, to which Diana couldn’t help but smirk.

“Purple is not really Orin’s style, witch,” the Amazon Queen retorted, a sneer crossing her lips as she stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, with the man she had once been so at odds with that they had hungered for each other’s blood as a starving man after food.

 “Neither is submission,” Arthur added with a smile, stepping forward to slide between the two women to cover Diana as she slid from the grip of the lasso and adjusted herself, preparing for another fight. He gripped the Triton of Poseidon with both hands, finally comfortable with his weapon, rather than Diana’s sabre.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

“Oh, isn’t this sweet, the two of you, reunited to fight a common enemy,” Circe’s voice was sickly sweet, mocking the couple as they stood, ready to attack the witch in front of them. “Good, just in time to get ripped apart. You’ll be able to watch each other’s faces as you die...”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Arthur said, charging the purple haired witch foolishly, his trident gripped tightly in both hands as he charged. Diana wasn’t surprised when Circe was able to deflect his attack easily, sending him flying backwards into Diana.

The Amazon caught her ex fiancé, her arms wrapping around his waist and letting him down easily. “Arthur, Circe is more than just a pretty face; her magic is powerful and dangerous,” she whispered to him quickly.

“I can see that,” he said, feeling the comfort of her touch, having forgotten how supportive she could be. He put his hands on hers to push off, getting back to his feet and eyeing her up. “How do we do this?”

Diana was one step ahead of the question, her lariat readied. The golden rope snapped out, attempting to ensnare Circe.

“Are you serious?” she said with a laugh, grapping onto the end of it, sending a course of magic through forcing Diana to let go. “You’re little rope doesn’t have any power over me anymore.”

“Gaea...” Diana whispered her blue eyes wide. How on earth were they going to beat her if the trident’s power was useless, they couldn’t get near her for a physical attack and Diana’s lasso had no power over the witch?

“Any more bright ideas?” Arthur asked, holding his trident in a much more defensive posture this time, keeping in tight to Diana.

They had never fought side by side like this; all of their confrontations had involved them fighting each other, or fighting each other’s armies and generals. Having always fought against, and never on side with, it still felt strangely familiar to be at each other’s side. They knew each other’s fighting styles well, but the question was would that translate into working well as partners now.

Diana looked to the dais; her sabre was still on the floor. There was still a chance. With both of them armed, it would increase the chances of one of them actually landing a hit. “Arthur, cover me,” she said, offering nothing more to him as she darted across behind him, sprinting to the dais.

“Oh no you don’t!” Circe said, sending a bolt Diana’s way.

Arthur saw the attack coming and was prepared, firing a lightning bolt from his trident to knock Circe’s blast off target, giving Diana the time she needed to grab her sabre. The Amazon came through, grabbing the sabre and skidding to the stop.

“Well isn’t that cute,” Circe scoffed, raising her hands to fire a bolt at each hero. They split, Diana dashing left while Arthur went right, the bolts digging into the floor, ripping apart the intricate tile work, much to Circe’s chagrin. She let out a surprised yelp, her hands coming to cover her purple lips. “Look what you two have made me do!” she screamed, her voice cracking with anger. “You heathens!”

Diana and Arthur had her flanked, their blue eyes meeting each other across the room. This had to be done quickly. Diana darted in from the left with Arthur coming from the right. “You foolish mortals!” she said with her voice growing in volume as she held out a shield like barrier to Diana, her body coming into contact with the barrier, sending her backwards. A second orb surrounded Arthur, picking him up and holding him in a purple hued mini prison while the witch turned her attention back to Diana.

“You just had to ruin my plans, didn’t you?” she said, sounding extremely angry and disappointed in the woman. “You couldn’t just lie down and die? You couldn’t let me have my little victory and leave me alone to be happy could you!” her voice was growing as she stalked over to the princess.

“I should have just killed you when I had the chance!” she screamed, her anger getting greater. She lashed out, throwing more bolts of energy towards Diana. The Amazon Princess was pinned down by the assault, and while she was sufficiently armed now, she was unable to get any mobility, working hard just to avoid Circe’s attacks. “I had a chance to kill you when you will still an infant, when you were still in Hippolyta’s womb! I should have done it then! But I didn’t, because I loved him! I loved Ares! And he abandoned me!”

A stray bolt got lucky and hit Diana, knocking her off her feet and onto her backside. She let out a grunt with the impact, finding the wind knocked out of her, but everything else intact. “He’s the God of War!” Diana countered. “A God! They aren’t exactly known for being the most loyal lovers…”

“Oh shut up!” Circe crowed, firing another energy bolt at Diana. She took the hit again, knocked back to her feet, feeling dizzy and light headed. The bolt turned into a steady stream, holding the Amazon down, pinned against the pillar and ground as her magic drained Diana of her strength and will to fight. “Ready to give up yet?” she cackled, her laughter filling Diana’s ears like a noxious bird.

“I will never give into you, Circe,” she said, her voice strained under the pressure of her attack. She pushed herself to her knees, a great struggle under the pressure of Circe’s attack. Her elbows quaked as she forced her way up.

Arthur watched helpless as Diana was attacked, trying to break his way out of Circe’s ensnaring magic to no avail.

“Fine then, you ignorant cow, have it your way!” Circe shouted, her anger peaking as Diana refused to submit to her. She had just about enough of the Amazons and their insolence; they were pompous, and two faced. “I’ll burn you from this life as I wished to do to your miserable mother!” The intensity increased and Diana, who had until now been able to crawl her way back up to her hands and knees, but under the increased pressure was pushed back down to her stomach.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

“Diana!” Arthur screamed from his purple prison like enclosure. He had put the trident on his back as a matter of trying to get out of the “bubble” Circe had encased him in. “Diana, don’t let this witch defeat you!” With both fists he slammed into the edge of his purple enclosure, fighting to get out but, even with the power of his water barer hand, he only succeeded in flooding the orb.

“Oh shut up you miserable man!” Circe growled. “I’ve grown tired of her whining and complaining,” she said, turning her attention to Arthur, allowing Diana to recover but only slightly. “I can see why the Amazon here got tired of you so quick! Not to worry, though, the two of you won’t be long for this world much longer,” she said with a chuckle, flicking her wrist and tossing the orb with Arthur in it out through the double doors.

Even in her weakened state, Diana’s eyes widened. Arthur could not fly, and before he left her sight, she saw the purple orb dissipate, the water he had filled it with splashing on the marble tiles of the veranda. “Arthur!” she shouted, reaching a hand out. There was the off chance that he could land in the river, or that Circe’s force was enough to pushing him all the way to the ocean, but they were nothing that Diana could count on.

Get up, she urged herself. There isn’t much time. You have to get up. You have to get past Circe’s spell. Arthur needs you. Now!

Her legs, coiled and full of potential, pushed off with a brutal force. Circe had held her at bay long enough. This was personal; this was visceral. Arthur had been brought into this by Diana, it was her fault he was about to die, and just as they had forgiven each other.

No, this will not happen, she thought to herself, pushing back into a standing position, her arms crossed in front of her face, her mystical bracers now taking the brunt of Circe’s attack, allowing her to steady herself. Diana raised her crossed wrists, raising the level of Circe’s attack. Her hands came down, uncrossing in front of her as she let out a deafening battle cry. It was the call her mother had used in battle, a single, non verbal sound made to honour the God of War.

Thrown off by Diana’s ability to come out from under her attack, Circe was silenced, her eyes going wide as Diana charged past her.

“There will be time for you later, Witch,” she said, dashing past her enemy and diving off the edge of the balcony.

Her body ached, a deep, full body, deep in the bones ache that told her she didn’t have much time in the air. She had to find Arthur, fast; too much time had already passed for Diana’s comfort. She flew as fast as she could, seeing a streak of red, where his shirt had been purple before, happily seeing that he was still in the air, and that the last holds of Circe’s control had left him.

Diana dove down, her blue eyes locked on Arthur’s falling form. Just as she had feared, he was going to land nowhere near any water, unless she had something to do with it. She kept her eyes locked on him as he crashed through the top canopy of the jungle, and she followed after him. She could use her lasso on him, but the impact of her pulling up when his body was falling down might be just as detrimental as her letting him fall into the ground.

Tree limbs and leaves obscured her view, but didn’t slow her down as the Amazon braced her arms in front of her face, crashing through branches and trees as if there was nothing there, bent on catching up with Arthur at all costs.

She caught him, her arms wrapping first around his upper body, before managing to scoop up his legs as well, making their bodies more in line with each other, mere feet from the forest floor and immediately stopped their decent.

She slowly let their bodies come down, watching him as she sunk to her knees, letting his body rest on the ground. There was a large gash on his head and his eyes were closed, but he had a pulse, all be it faint.

“Oh Arthur...” she whispered, brushing his short cropped blonde hair, feeling the short, bristly texture on the tips of her fingers as she leaned over him, her other hand inspecting the wound. It appeared to be merely superficial; it was just a cut, probably from a tree branch. The impact perhaps simply stunned him. She held his head gently, stroking his cheek with one hand, supporting his head and neck with the other, making sure he remained still just in case the injury was more severe.

She cradled his head in her lap, his shoulders pressing against her knees. The back of her fingers brushed along his cheeks gently as she whispered to him, “Arthur... please wake up,” she whispered. “I need you to wake up right now. I’m sorry. I need to tell you I’m sorry.” Tears started to come to her eyes, but still hadn’t flooded to the point of causing them to roll down her cheeks. Leaning over him, Diana brushed her lips to his forehead, the tears finally starting to flow down her cheeks, dropping onto his smoothed, unwrinkled forehead. “I’m sorry you got wrapped up in this mess. I’m sorry you got hurt because of me... again...”

In the panic that surrounded Arthur’s free fall, Diana was completely ignoring her own wounds; he back was bleeding profusely still, and she had been severely drained by Circe’s magic, with bruises on her palms, wrists, knees and at least four broken ribs. And yet, despite her injuries, Diana remained bent over Arthur, monitoring his pulse, his breathing, the flicking of his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering.

It caused a breath to become caught in the Amazon’s throat as his blonde eyelashes fluttered, not quite parting to open and reveal his beautiful ocean blue eyes, but there was movement, which meant that he was going to wake up. He was going to be okay.

“Come on, Arthur,” she whispered to him. “Open your eyes,” Diana’s voice pleaded to him, stroking his cheeks once again, her knuckles gently brushing over the arch of his cheek bone, down the flat of his cheek to his jaw. “Please come back. Follow my voice, Arthur,” she whispered, leaning closer to him.

“Hmmm?” a sound came from his throat and Diana had to hold herself back from becoming too excited. She continued to keep her cool edge, stroking his cheek, her opposite hand resting on his chest, letting his head rest against the crook of her elbow, offering stability to his neck with her arm and comfort with her fingers.

“Sh... It’s okay,” she whispered to him, smiling over him.

“Circe!” He said, trying to sit up, but the pressure from Diana’s arm against his chest kept him in a down position. He groaned; it looks like Diana wasn’t the only one who was suffering from some core injuries. “We have...”

“Hush now,” she said, shaking her head. A curtain of raven hair came over her shoulder, brushing Arthur’s cheek gently as she spoke to him, her lips pulling into a smile. “The Fates will bring me another chance to recapture her. You are more important.”

Her words hung between them as both King and Queen deciphered what they meant, what she had just admitted to. His ocean hued eyes peering up to hers, blue as well, but lacking the green shades his possessed, coloured more like a cloudless sky than water. He dared to move a hand, lifting his right hand to rest on her left as it rested on his chest, letting his fingers intertwine with hers, his thumb brushing her own.

The silence grew between them, her eyes starting to dim.

“Diana?” Arthur forced himself into a seated position, remembering the injuries she had sustained, mostly at his hand, not to mention the pressure and force of the attacks Circe had fired at her. “Diana,” he called a second time, quickly getting to his hands and knees, kneeling in front of her, supporting her weight at her shoulders, her head bent over. “Di!” his voice was desperate at this point. He didn’t want to shake her and risk aggravating her existing injuries.

He felt her pulse; it was incredibly weak, but there, and that was enough for him right now. She could have let him die; let him fall through the canopy and lay on his own, but instead she stayed with him, called him back from the lights of death.

“Hold on, Diana,” he whispered, picking her up, supporting her shoulders and under her knees, her head resting against his shoulder. “I can’t fly like you, but I’ll get you home. I promise,” he whispered, looking at her serene looking face; it almost looked like she was sleeping, so peaceful, so serene.

The hike to water was not easy for Arthur, still weak and injured, but he was determined to soldier on.  He had to; she would do it for him, without a second of hesitation.

The water called to him, the river that Diana had rinsed herself off after battling the Gorgons Stheno and Euryale, and once he reached it, he checked Diana’s pulse a second time. She hadn’t faded, but she hadn’t improved either. He had to get her to the Amazon healers, they were the only ones who could bring her back. He hadn’t the skill or the gifts for healing.

The water lapping against his booted feet was heavenly; like being welcomed home even though Atlantis was still far away. Just being in the water would help Arthur heal, though he knew he must be cautious as to not lose track of what he was doing, lest Diana drown on the rescue ride to Themyscira.

“Just hold on, please,” he whispered to her, taking her into the water and swimming towards the open ocean. He couldn’t speak the words he felt in his heart; his pride was still far too bruised by the nastiness between them from the years of war and destruction, and the hatred that had seeped into his soul while he battled challenger after challenger to his reign.

Please, Diana, don’t die...


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

He was exhausted by the time he reached the shores of Themyscira, but Diana’s pulse was still there, faint as it was though.

"Philipus! Donna!” Arthur called for the most trusted general Diana had during the war, one who had urged peace and inquiry over the war preached by Pentisilla, and for Diana’s sister, Donna, who was ruling as regent while Diana was in exile.

“Philipus! Donna!” he screamed their names a second time, now coming to shore, knowing his presence would alert the population quickly, but not caring. There were very few circumstances where men were allowed on Themyscira, the last time being when Diana and Arthur were to be wed. “Someone!”

“A man!” he heard a voice call, likely a sentry posted to guard the shores.

He’s legs felt heavy as he waded towards the shore, the water coming down from his waist, his knees, then to his ankles.

“He calls for the General and Regent!” he heard the reply. “Go fetch them, quickly!”

The world was thundering with each breath, each step, each heart beat; the exhaustion was beginning to settle in. He couldn’t keep going much longer.

“What is he carrying?”

The urge to sink to his knees was uncompromising, but he fought through, forcing a foot in front of the other, step after step, he slowly slogged forward.

“It looks like a body?”

Feet away from the base of a sharp hill where the sentry was posted a top, it was too much. Arthur’s knees hit the sand, but he refused to let Diana’s body go. He continued to hold his former love, an arm supporting her shoulders, the other under her knees. Her legs shook limply as he hit the sand.

“It’s Orin of Atlantis!” Someone finally recognized him.

“Great Hera! It’s Diana!” The alarm bells began to ring and Arthur felt a split second of relief followed up by a sickening panic. He hadn’t thought about it, but the natural assumption the Amazons were likely to make was that Arthur was responsible for the Queen’s current condition, and while he felt someone responsible for the situation, he hadn’t caused most of the damage, at least not under his own compulsion.

“Circe,” he managed to croak out as Philipus came to him, followed quickly by Donna. “Diana...” he groaned, the lights starting to go dim. He was relieved at the appearance of these two; surely Diana had shared their conversations with these two, her closest advisor and her sister. They would know that he hadn’t caused this, that Diana had actively tried to mend their relationship, and even while Arthur had been openly hostile towards her, he hadn’t shown any signs of aggression, he hadn’t threatened her safety or the safety of the Amazons. And of course, she would have warned Donna of the possibility she would have to abdicate the throne in the event that their plan to get rid of Triton hadn’t worked.

“Alexa, take the Queen to Antiope,” Donna ordered one of the sentry guards, a thick woman who nodded and easily, but with extreme tenderness and care, took Diana into her arms and disappeared, taking the queen to a distant healer somewhere on the island.

“Orin,” Donna crouched in front of him, resting a hand on his back and one on his chest, her dark hair falling into her eyes as he looked at her, trying to get him to look at him. His eyes barely registered the younger Amazon, noting only the incredible resemblance to Diana when she was younger. “Aquaman!” she called, her voice sounding louder, even though she seemed further away.

The world swirled around him and then went dark as Arthur passed out in Donna’s arms.

“What in Gaea’s name is this about?” Philipus asked, crouching next to the now unconscious Orin, helping Donna get him to his feet.

“I do not know, Philipus,” Donna whispered. “But Diana had told me several days ago that she was worried Circe had resurfaced.”

“Did he not mention the witch’s name?” Philipus, who had been Hippolyta’s general before serving her daughter in the great war, was familiar with the witch known as Circe and the evil’s that she was capable of in the name of revenge on Hippolyta. “Would she go that far as to attack Hippolyta’s daughter?”

There was a moment between the two women, a silence and a look that said they both knew that Circe would sink that low without a second’s hesitation, but what did Arthur have to do with this?

“We will have to get the full story from Diana when she wakes up,” Donna spoke softly. “For the time being, perhaps we should make sure Orin is taken care of.”

“But he cannot remain on the island,” Philipus commented, her brows furrowing at the thought of treating a male on the island, in the healing temples no less. Adding to the risk was that it was Arthur, leader of the Atlantian armies. He had led a raid on the island, as well as on New Themyscira, and was a bitter enemy of most of the Amazons whose wounds from the war were still fresh. She didn’t mention that to Donna, she didn’t have to.

“The Island, then?” she suggested, not having to clarify that she meant Exile, the island the Goddess Aphrodite herself raised from the depths to serve as a love nest for the royal couple.

“I believe that is the best choice of actions,” the dark skinned general agreed. “Can you fly him there? I will go to the healing temple and ask for Antiope to send a healer to watch over him.”

Donna nodded and took over the possession of Arthur’s body, picking his body up in much the same manner he had been carrying Diana, taking off from the ground gently, keeping a careful eye on her charge while she watched Philipus dash off behind the sentry shuttling Diana to the temple.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Diana awoke several days later, with only the dim memory of what had happened after she rushed out of Circe’s temple after Arthur. Her dark eyelashes fluttered, hesitating as they opened for the first time, half expecting Arthur to be there, just as he had been when she closed her eyes, but instead of his handsome, serene face with ocean blue eyes and a smile as bright as Apollo’s chariot. Instead, her sister leaned over her, looking tired and concerned.

“Sister!” Donna’s posture changed immediately noticing Diana waking up, instantly signalling for Antiope, the lead healer.

The blonde woman, a near replica of Athena with her waxen hair and compassionate knowledge, but straight sense of duty, came rushing from the shrine to Asclepius, the Greek God of Medicine and healing.

“My Queen, take it easy, do not try to sit,” she said softly, trying to urge the queen to remain laying down, in a posture that won’t cause any blood drain from her head. “You are still weak, my Queen,” she said, coming to her side, standing opposite Donna.

“What happened?” Donna asked her, brushing back her sister’s hair, tucking it behind her ear carefully. “The sentries saw Arthur carrying you in from the ocean, he passed out before he was able to tell us anything.

Oh no, she thought, panic registering on her face. There was a half heard memory of his words in the back of her mind, “Please don’t leave me,” she thought it was, but couldn’t be entirely sure. But the way Donna talked, it was as if Arthur wasn’t here. Passed out? “Where is he?” she asked, grabbing Donna’s forearm and looking at her sister’s eyes. It was like looking into a mirror, but one that reflected a more calm version of herself, less panicked and worried about Arthur’s where abouts.

“The Atlantian is fine,” Antiope said. Relief washed over Diana as she leaned back into the pillows, only to be brought back to her near panicked state when Antiope continued. “Or at least he was when he left four days ago.”

“Four days ago?” Diana asked, her brows furrowing together as she sat back up swiftly enough to cause her to feel light headed. Her blue eyes swam in a semi darkness and her lips felt cold. “How long was I out?” she asked, turning to the healer.

“Almost a week, Diana,” she said carefully. “Arthur tried to wait, but he was being driven mad by the isolation of the Island and by the thoughts of his kingdom being without a king.”

“He stayed here? How long?”

“He came to visit as often as Philipus would let him on the main island,” Donna said, holding her sister’s hand, looking at the pain in her crystal blue eyes. It was clear to Donna that Diana still had very real, very deep feelings  for the Atlantian king. “He had broken ribs that needed to be set and a concussion, we offered to let him stay on Exile as long as he needed to recover, but he refused to stay too long.” She fell silent, knowing Diana might feel abandoned by his leaving. “I’m sure he would have stayed longer if not for Atlantis’ need,” she urged.

Diana shook her head, laying back into the soft pillows, letting her eyes shut. “No, it wasn’t Atlantis’ need; there is nothing left of Atlantis,” her words caused a stunned silence by the women around her. “Civil war has ravaged the once beautiful city of Posedionis, and the other great cities have feared much worse. Every king and queen from the smaller principalities, anyone who could swing a sword or use a weapon, has been challenging Orin for his title.” She looked at Antiope and Donna. “He needed to defend his right to rule; he was not blessed with the popular confidence I have been blessed by.”

“Are you sure?” Donna asked, still tenderly nurturing her sister.

“Yes, Sister,” Diana said. “I saw the royal hall, it was nothing but a single throne, the King’s, Gaea knows what happened to Mera’s throne,” she started, hesitating only when she realized for the first time since meeting Arthur and learning about his relationship with Mera, that she said her name without so much as a twinge of hurt. “There were only a few pillars, no ceiling to speak of left at all.

Antiope brought her hand up to her lips, her big eyes looking even larger as she was told the stories of Atlantis, of the war and horrors and circumstances that Arthur was living in. “Is there any way we can help? There must be thousands of refugees suffering and lingering in the squalor?”

“Only if Orin allows for it,” Diana said. “I will not step on another monarch’s toes, nor will I force him to accept help he does not want.”

The women around her nodded and Diana was left to rest, regain her strength. Philipus came by later, bringing with her wine and fruit, and word that a search party, captained by one of her remaining Furies, the Thanagarian warrior whose loyalty to Diana and the Amazons was unphased by the war, had been sent after Circe. “They recovered these from Circe’s temple, Diana,” Philipus said, presenting her with her sabre, shield and axe.

Diana nodded, gesturing to them them placed on the table at her side. “I really am sick of this bed already, Philipus,” the queen spoke in a matter of fact tone, as she always felt comfortable, even at a young age, talking to Philipus in a candid manner. “When can I go back to the island?”

There had been no talk as to whether the hardship with Circe, and the new dedication by Diana to find the witch and bring her back into Amazon custody, would end her exile, which at this point was self imposed more than decreed by the Gods. Athena had only required a twelve month penance.

“You wish to return to Exile?” Philipus said, sounding almost insulted, and a little concerned for Diana’s mental stability. “We, you sister, myself and the senators, we were hoping you would return to us here...”

Diana hadn’t thought about that; she had grown comfortable in the silence, and admittedly had revelled in the lack of responsibility the island afforded her. She could spend days philosophizing to herself, pondering the meaning of life, war and the complications of the heart. She could mourn her mother and the life she could have had with Arthur, but in light of the hardships Atlantis was suffering and the attack she just endured, it was clear that she was acting as a self indulgent child by remaining away from Themyscira when they actually wanted her back.

“May I petition a few more nights on the island?” she asked her general, a smile on her lips as she did.

Philipus was a little set back by this; Diana was the Queen, she had complete control and utter say in the political realm of Themyscira, even when she had been Exiled by Aphrodite. Who was Philipus to give her permission to impose solitude on herself or not. “If that is what you wish, you are the queen,” she offered, confusion evident in her voice.

“I have grown fond of the quiet,” she said as a manner of explanation.

Philipus smiled, reading between the lines. Antiope and Donna had filled her in regarding Diana’s severe questioning about Arthur’s where abouts, his health when he left their care, and in retelling the horrors she had seen beneath the waves in the once beautiful capitol of Atlantis. It struck Philipus as hopeful that the bond that had grown between Diana and Arthur, nurtured by Aphrodite, then almost destroyed utterly by Ares, survived.

“He did not leave anything behind,” Philipus whispered, dropping her voice so that no one around them would hear her or question what was being said to the queen. They had kept Arthur’s presence quiet, allowing only those who needed to know into the circle of knowledge, lest the few remaining anti-Atlantian hard liners try to attempt a rebellion while the Queen was subdued. “No notes, no messages. Donna went to check on him that morning and bring food, only to find the bed empty.”

“He... he was in our bed?” she asked, a flush coming to her cheeks.

Philipus had to stifle a laugh. “Yes, my Queen,” she said, resting an arm on the younger woman’s shoulders. “While he was recovering, we knew we could not have him on the main island, so we set him up on your island, as it already had structures and we knew the Gods permitted men, or at least him, there. After all, Aphrodite created it for both of you, remember?” the taunting question caused another flush of blood to Diana’s cheeks as she tried to hide her face from the rest of the room, a curtain of hair blocking the view of everyone who wasn’t directly face on with her.

“I will return these,” Philipus said, picking up the weapons and shield. “To your Mother’s shrine. When you are ready, I will make sure you are allowed out and can return to the Island freely.”

“Thank you, Philipus,” Diana said, the blush slowly working its way from her cheeks as she smiled at the other woman. “As always, you are a true friend.”

“Diana, you are not merely my Queen,” she said with a broad, caring smile. “Your mother was my Sister, not in blood but in battle and in heart, which makes you my child as much as you were hers. It gives my greatest pleasure to watch you follow her footsteps... And to watch you fall in love, again.”

The women embraced and Philipus set off to return the weapons to the shrine in the temple Diana had erected by hand.

For her part, Diana was tired, exhausted from the visitor and the information about Circe and Arthur. Laying back into the pillows, she let her eyes drift shut, sleep coming to the queen quickly, and for once it was blessedly unbound by dreams or nightmares.  


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

“Are you sure you’re okay to fly?” Donna asked, needlessly helping her sister as they walked to the beach of the main Island of Themyscira closest to Exile.

“Yes, Donna,” Diana said, her smile saying that she was charmed by her sister’s compassion, but just a little bit annoyed by the persistence and mothering that she was receiving.

“But, alone? What if something happens? What if Circe comes back?” the younger sister persisted, holding on to her older sister’s wrist around the silver bracelet they all wore.

“Shayera and her team are tracking Circe,” she reminded her sister. “I will be fine.” Her smile was gentle, but she was losing her patience. Since she woke up, Diana had been treated like an invalid, unable to do anything for herself. Donna had even insisted on helping Diana pin her robes and hair. To her credit, however, Donna had taken much more care than Diana would have. The younger sister had always been more conscious of image and where Diana would rather just get her hair out of the way, Donna had a flare for doing it with style.

 "It’s a shame you lost the diadem...” the younger sibling said, looking to the ground. The words that hung between them were obvious, because the diadem had belonged to their mother before it was Diana’s, and by losing it, she had lost part of her Mother’s legacy.

“I know,” she whispered, tilting Donna’s head up to look at her. “But Mother would tell us it is only gold and jewels, an object without any meaning or purpose other than that which we invest in it.”

Donna laughed. “You really are like her,” she said, and for once in their long history of rivalries, it was meant as a compliment.

“You pay me the greatest compliment, Sister,” she said, wrapping her arms around the slightly smaller version of herself and embracing her before taking off to the Island for what might be one last trip.

The barren chunk of rock was quite like how Diana remembered it; desolate and incredibly lonely. The first thing she did upon arrival was go to the temple she had erected in memory of the lost souls from the war, her mother, her own innocence and Mera.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Diana knelt down in front of the shrine built for Hippolyta and prayed.

Her head bent, the Queen fought back tears as she lifted her head to the statue bearing her mother’s resemblance only to find it had gone from stone to flesh, or at least a representation of flesh.

“Why do you cry, child?” her mother’s voice, always warm and consolatory, asked.

“Because I have caused so much pain, if only I had listened to my heart, if I had listened to Arthur, to Donna and Philipus… The war could have been avoided; Atlantis wouldn’t be in ruins, the world would not be fearful of us… Circe would not have escaped,” She hung her head. “It is all my fault.”

“Such foolish non sense, Diana,” her mother’s voice echoed from beyond the corporeal world. “Pentisilla and Orm would have found another way; your Aunt knew what she was doing, she would not have had a hard time to convince Mera that your death would mean her right to be Queen, and in that she would have found a powerful ally. How do you think Circe was freed?”

Diana’s eyes went wide when her mother spoke of Arthur’s mistress turned Queen, and confirmed what she had feared about Circe’s release. “Pentisilla passed the information to Orm who let it be known to Mera, but do not blame the poor woman, your arrival turned her world, her future, on its head.”

Diana nodded. “Like you and Circe?” she offered, her blue eyes watching the reflected image of herself, much like in Donna but older, wiser, but no less regal.

The older woman’s mouth drew into a line as she heard her reference the complicated relationship between Hippolyta and Circe, one that centred, much like Diana and Mera, around a man, but rather than king of an ancient and “lost” civilization, Ares was the God of War and Chaos. “Perhaps I should explain the whole story to you,” Hippolyta said with a smile.

 “It would be nice to hear it from you,” Diana agreed, nodding her head slightly. “Is he really my father?”

“Physically?” Hippolyta shook her head. “I do not know; he is a God, and while we were lovers, you were not born until long after we had drifted apart, but as a God, it is not outside the realm of possibility that he could impregnate me without my knowledge. He is, however, your guide. You are his Champion as much as you belong to his blessed sisters Aphrodite and Athena, and whether you know it or not, every battle you’ve ever been in he has watched over you, including in your fights with Arthur.”

Hippolyta continued to explain what had happened, from her first meeting with Ares, to the Rape of the Amazons, which threatened to split Themyscira into two tribes, to Diana’s birth, rearing, her military training, going right up to the point of Hippolyta’s death.

By the time the former Queen was done, the sun was hanging low in the sky, the large, deep orange orb reflecting in the calm serenity of the ocean made Diana long for contact with Arthur.

“My child,” Hippolyta called. “The diadem of the Queen? You do not wear it?”

 Diana put her hand to her forehead and swallowed hard. “I… uh,” she looked away, unable to look her mother in the eye as she admitted she lost the diadem. “I lost it.”

“Where?”

“In battle, I suppose,” she said, a confused look on her face. Truth be told, she could not remember the last time she had worn the piece, or where she could have lost it. She supposed she could have lost it during a fight with one of the Gorgons on Circe’s island, in which case it would be lost to her forever.

 “It was just gold and gems,” her mother said, exactly how Diana had thought she would. “The meaning is what we inscribe to it, and if it was lost in the heat of righteous battle, then it shall not be lost, merely a sacrifice to the God of War.”

Diana nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as her mother’s image began to disappear.

“Don’t tell that to me,” the voice said with a gentle smile as the figure returned to stone. “You have nothing to apologize to me for…”

She had been fighting back tears, tears of anger, of loneliness, of hate, of exhaustion for hours, for days, and here, in front of Hippolyta’s shrine, she couldn’t hold them in any longer and out they flowed.

By the time Diana was finished, she was more exhausted than she had ever been in her life and the sun had set, calling the moon to rise, reflecting cool, white light throughout the barren island she had called home for well over a year.

Some might find navigating the rough, rocky terrain in the dark difficult, but by now it was second nature to Diana, and she had no difficulties making it to her home. Inside there were no lamps lit, and a cool dampness hung in the bed chamber, mixing with and holding in the last lingering vestiges of Arthur’s scent.

 Without thinking, the queen closed her eyes and inhaled deeply; the salty, musky smell of his skin and hair was still there, all be it extremely faint, faint enough for someone who had never spent a night in his bed to pass it off as simply the fresh sea air blowing in from outside. Diana knew better. Though they had never consummated their relationship, she had been invited to sleep in the Master Bed during her stay in Atlantis; where Arthur had spent that night was lost on Diana. She had always assumed he had spent it with Mera in her chambers, as he certainly did not sleep next to her that night, either through lack of interest in the Amazon or respect for her staunch, strict culture – she was, after all, a disciple of the Virgin Goddess, Athena.

Pulling back the sheets on her bed, she was assaulted with Arthur’s scent once again, only stronger. She let it wrap around her as she crawled between the linen blankets, still dressed in her regal, purple robes.

 Her eyelids were heavy as her head touched down on the pillow, and her last thoughts of the day were off the one man she had ever trusted, and was beginning to trust, and long for, once again. Her experience with him, fighting with him as an ally rather than against him as an enemy, was eye opening. His loyalty, something she had always questioned, even when they were “happy” together, was steadfast and, while she might have problems admitting it to a wider audience, she felt bad about second guessing where his heart lied.

He had once told her, when they had spoken after the war, if she had wanted him to end his relationship with Mera, all Diana would have had to do was ask. At the time, she didn’t believe it, but it was becoming clear Arthur was as much a man of his word as Diana was a woman of hers, and if he said he would do something if asked, she was confident he would have.

All of these revelations did nothing to soothe the aching loneliness of the Amazon Queen, or to slack the tears that were once again welling up in her sore, reddened eyes. But it was cathartic; a release of pent up emotions years in the making. With them gone, Diana thought perhaps, just maybe, she could move on.

Oh Arthur, she thought as she drifted off to Morpheus’ realm of sleep and dreams. I miss you already…


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Diana continued to return to Exile, praying to her Mother and the Gods in private every night at dusk, though never again did the former queen appear to her daughter. Sometimes she would come with Donna, or Philipus, or Antiope, but on most nights, such as this one, she would come alone.

Philipus, who never held any ill will towards the actual citizens of Atlantis and whose respect and trust of Arthur had been restored when he risked his own life to return Diana to Themyscira, had spoken with the master architect of the island, Gorgo, knowing she was a great lover of Atlantian architecture, and had her begin plans should Arthur decide to contact Diana, and should she offer the help. They wanted to be prepared.

Diana remembered when Philipus, proud of Gorgo’s work, had presented the idea to the queen. “We have even spoken to some of the builders and sculptors; they are willing to work under water,” she had said.

Diana had never been prouder of her sisters than she was then. While the wounds of war would take a long time to heal, it seems as though the Amazons were taking great leaps forward to try and mend the gap between the two great civilizations. They were bringing forth the ideals that had been presented to them by Aphrodite; to heal the wounds and ugliness and hatred of war and xenophobia with love, and community, and unity. And still, Diana refused to reach out to Arthur.

“Have you been in touch with the Atlantian?” Gorgo would ask, eager to show off her work and get a real Atlantian’s perspective on her interpretations of their classical architecture, not all that different from that which the Amazons preferred.

“No,” Diana would always reply, without elaboration or debate; the answer was always No.

And so, alone on Exile, watching the sun dip down she took a deep breath, preparing herself to return to the main island, when a voice caught her attention.

“Purple always suited you.”

Arthur!

She turned around, and while her feet were firmly rooted on the ground, she had a hard time holding back a rush of emotion which compelled the Queen to throw herself into his arms and hold on like some love sick school girl, or shower him in kisses the way Mera had in the past. Instead, her turn was slow, the hem of her robe flaring out around her ankles as she did.

“Arthur,” she spoke his name with a smile, feeling relieved he was alright, that he hadn’t left the island only to succumb to his injuries, or to face an a challenger for his throne whom he might have been able to defeat were he healthy only to fall because he was not. “You look well.”

“So do you,” he said, rising out of the waves to meet her on the shore. She noticed he carried something in his hands: the diadem! The memory came back to her quickly now; she had worn it to meet Arthur and ask for his help, it must have come off while they were fighting the sea monster. “I found this in the palace wreckage…” He said, offering it out to her. “I figured, I should return it.”

She remembered his bitter words when she had previously reached out to him, throwing the same tiara into the depths in hopes of him returning it and mending the relationship. He returned it, but only because he didn’t want her “stink” reminding him of her. It was as if the filter had turned off, and Diana was not in full control of her voice when she spoke, “You didn’t want my “stink” haunting your brooding time?” She regretted the words instantly.

There was a flash of anger in the eyes of the Atlantian King, but he remembered those had been his words previously, and as bitter as they were then, and for all that had passed between them, while Arthur was hurt she should throw his words back in his face, he understood the pain and insult that he had issued when he had said them before. “No,” he spoke softly, walking towards her. “Because like all Amazon treasures, it deserves to be in the sun,” he whispered to her, something he would have said when they were courting. It was a line; he only half-heartedly meant it, but better to half-heartedly mean something sweet than to completely mean something cruel.

The golden haired king let out a soft chuckle as Diana blushed, stepping to her and gently placing the diadem on her forehead, careful not to catch her hair. The tenderness, pure hearted and sweet, surprised both parties. She bowed her head a little as he slid the chilled, still wet gold across her skin, smoothing it out and rubbing his thumb over the large, centre oval, clearing the salt from the red gem.

His hands, now having completed their task, slid through her dark hair, feeling the softness of the waves as he smiled at her. For a long time seconds, minutes, dripped away with the two monarchs stood silently locked in each other’s eyes.

“You never told me about the dream that Circe gave you,” he whispered, his voice taking on the half sleepy, dreamy quality of someone lost in a beautiful thought.

“There wasn’t any truth in it,” Diana whispered, her eyes closing as she felt the warmth of his hand cupping her cheek. Leaning into the touch, her eyes opened to hear him speak.

“There is always some truth to our dreams, Diana,” he replied, pulling her close, one hand gliding through her hair and guiding her face to meet his. This was a kiss on purpose; not guided by some unseen hand, not forced upon a shy princess by a reluctant for the cameras and guests.

Her lips melted when he touched them, the sensation lighting Diana and bringing back a little of the lost innocence. Her cheeks flushed even before the kiss broke. It was like fireworks, sparks on her lips as his parted, his tongue licking and lapping at the soft part of her mouth, begging for entry into her mouth.  She relented, feeling his body rigid against her.

Arthur let out a groan, his arms pulling the Queen of the Amazons, the woman he had once wanted to see killed, now he wanted to see laying next to him, wrapped in sheets tangled from their spent passion.

When the kiss finally broke, both he and she were out of breath, but smiling at each other.

“I do not think Circe expected her spell to be so... effective,” Diana smiled, her cheek still cupped by Arthur’s real hand, the water barer left resting against her hip, massaging her gently as they kissed and she spoke.

“She said she only cast a spell for us to forgive each other,” Arthur countered, assuming the queen in front of him was speaking of a love spell, or some such nonsense. The sad smile that pulled across her lips as he spoke caused Arthur’s brow to furrow a little. “What is it?” he asked, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

That sweet smile remained on her lips as she turned her face to his palm, kissing the large, square part of his hand. “I forgave you a long time ago,” she admitted, her blue eyes looking up at him, reflecting the sadness in the knowledge that he had only just begun to forgive her. “I don’t grudge you your anger, Arthur,” she whispered as his hand dropped from her cheek, her words becoming slightly more pressing as she reached out for him, holding his face as he had done with hers, forcing him to look at her. “There is no question who suffered more in the aftermath, and for that, I am infinitely sorry,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Sorry won’t rebuild Atlantis,” Arthur said, and even as he spoke them he knew they sounded harsher than he had intended.

“No,” she said, pressing another playful kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But I know some people who can.” She could hardly contain her excitement; she had been waiting for an opening to let him in on Philipus and Gorgo’s plans. The women had been so excited, and were always saddened when Diana returned from Exile only to tell them, yet again, she had not reached out to the Atlantian King to share their offer of support and rebuilding.

Now he was confused. “What do you mean?” he asked, blue eyes locked on hers as his head tilted, truly perplexed by her words.

“Do you remember the Amazon architect? She was fascinated by Atlantian architecture, specifically where it differed from ours,” Diana started, then laid out the plan as she knew and understood it, including allotted materials as well as an Amazon work force willing to volunteer to help raise Atlantis from the ashes and return it to the vibrant and progressive society it once was. “We both need allies, Arthur, and if this,” she looked down at the very narrow gap between their bodies. “If this is real, and we can forgive each other, we can be beacons for our people.”

He listened to her and smiled. “You were always so good at the political things,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “When you weren’t blinded by anger.”

She chuckled and kissed him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “The world won’t like this,” she warned him.

“I’ve never been all that concerned with what the surface world thinks of my life,” he said with a smirk, letting his hands slide around her waist, pulling her lower body closer to his with a kiss pressed to her lips.


	38. Epilogue

Epilogue

As Diana had expected, the initial announcement of the marriage between herself and Orin was received with incredible animosity, with several pundits from the United States urging President Luthor to send the Superman weapon to handle the problem, others calling for an all out nuclear strike.

As the year wore on, and the wedding day approached, however, pundits turned from being decidedly against the union, to what it would mean for the countries of Themyscira and Atlantis.

“Amazon construction crews, working with native Atlantis, have helped rebuild much of the capitol, as well as restored the most basic working needs of life to the rest of the country,” the BBC broadcaster spoke in a typically blunt fashion. “When asked for commentary, neither King Orin nor Queen Diana were available; the Amazon Queen’s spokesperson, General Philipus, said that the royal couple were busy in Posiedonis, helping rebuild.”

“The Royal Couple have announced their plans for the wedding, which will be hosted on the obscure island of Themyscira,” E! Entertainment would report. “Every designer on the planet is vying for a chance to garb the royal couple for their magical day, but so far no one has been given the green light.”

“Everyone’s so stunned about the wedding, and who doesn’t like a royal wedding, remember when King William married Kate?” a Fox News personality said. “But Orin of Atlantis isn’t a 28 year old British Prince and Diana of Themyscira, so called “Wonder Woman,” is no Kate Middleton! These two are war criminals who sunk half of Europe, and people just seem to want to forget about this in favour of what? A pretty wedding? A white dress? This is a fallacy! They make a farce of the whole institution of marriage. And the fact that President Luthor is not only condoning this atrocity, but participating in the ceremony, is insulting to the American forces that died during the war!”

Diana came up behind her soon to be husband, picking the television remote up. “I still don’t know why I should have one of these,” she whispered to him, leaning over his shoulder to kiss behind his ear.

“I thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” he said, letting his eyes close.

“Then keep your eyes closed,” she replied, teasing him as she kissed the back of his neck. He had opted to wear his military clothing rather than the tradition robe had worn at their first ceremony, even though the outside world seemed to figure that was a matter of policy, rather than simply a request voiced by his soon to be wife.

She had requested it, hoping that the militirism of it would be ignored. "You look better in pants," she had said, teasingly at the time. 

For her part, Diana wore a very similar dress to the one she was to wear when she was to be wed to him the first time, except her hair was loose, hanging around her shoulders in a wave of ink black hair. “It’s almost time, let’s not be late,” she cooed to him, rubbing his shoulders, giving them a strong squeeze.  

He heard her steps as she left the room, taking a deep breath. He was about to get married, for a third time.

He didn’t waste time getting to the Alter, looking to the President of the United States, a man by the name of Lex Luthor, who had been arranged to officiate the ceremony. He would have preferred if Philipus, or one of the Amazon priestesses had done it, but Diana had insisted it would lend an international legitimacy to their ceremony; always the political one.

The music struck up and Arthur knew Diana was on her way. The Queen was walked down the aisle who was known to few; an extremely tall, blonde man with dark eyes. While few would recognize the God of War in his human form, Diana felt honoured that he would recognize his child in such a way. Sitting in the front row, where Hippolyta should have been, were two women who looked quite similar to the man holding Diana’s hand, Aphrodite and Athena, his sisters and Diana’s patrons.

In front of President Luthor, Diana released Ares’ arm and took Arthur’s outstretched hand.

“You look breath taking,” he said softly. It was corny, a piece of déjà vu from a time past.

A coy smile pulled at the Queen’s lips as he spoke to her. “From someone who can breathe at the bottom of an ocean trench, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she whispered to him as he brought her hands to his lips, since he knew he couldn’t kiss her lips quite yet.

They shared their private joke as Luthor began to read his lines.

There were comments about commitment, about Themyscira and Atlantis’ history, together and separate, and about how the reunion between the Queen and King of these two nations spoke volumes for the potential of other countries to overcome adversity and age old rivalries.

“Do you, Arthur, King Orin of Atlantis, take Diana, Queen of Themyscira, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” he whispered without a second hesitation, watching the glittering blue eyes of his blushing bride. He didn’t wait for Luthor to give him the okay; with the words spoken, he pulled Diana close and pressed his lips to hers, tasting the sweetness of honey clinging to her lips. Their eyes closed as the couple shared a very public, yet incredibly intimate, moment.


End file.
